The Rose's Thorns
by JustHarrySirius
Summary: A young Norban woman protects three Fey warriors (Ravel vel Arras, Torel vel Carlian and Sian vel Sendaris) from vicious demise. Her mission is to save the Fey from the Eld's new magic and avenge her lyrant-slain family. Now, she has a shei'tan. *This is a shout out to all minor Fey warriors perished early on in the books. Cyr and OC pairing.
1. I:Trapped Fey Lord

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own Angela and any made-up names like Cyr's surname (since I could not locate it in the books). This story is dedicated to Cyr. He represents the minor Fey warriors who perished in battle serving the Fey. I have tried to faithfully follow the Feyan language, spellings and names. Please inform me if I am mistaken. Enjoy!

Special thanks to my friend **LadyLight0105** for inspiring me to try my hand at OC :-).

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 **Ch. I** :Trapped Fey Lord

Ravel vel Arras, Fire master to the Feyreisa's secondary quintet, knitted his black brows into a scowl at his predicament. The _sel'dor_ burned immensely. He could not risk sending a call for help or warning on the Common Path. His violet eyes began to dull from the pain.

Belliard vel Jelani, Fey First Blade, sent him to investigate a small town near Norban to rendez-vous with his compatriots, Sian vel Sendaris and Torel vel Carlian, when he stepped on a trap.

It was not as if the Fey Lord did not check. He _always_ scanned. Somehow, the Eld managed a way to outmaneuver the Fey. He _had_ to find out how.

Until then...he had to figure a way _out_ and _fast_. It would be nightfall when the Eld have the most power.

Ravel heard a twig snap and stiffened.

A bedraggled woman appeared before him. She stared at him for a moment and slowly approached him. She set her small bundle of herbs on the ground and glanced around her cautiously. She pulled her hands in front of her in the universal hands-up to mean no harm.

She frowned and pulled a jangling tool out from her pocket and looking at the sky she nimbly freed the manacles around his feet first. Her fingers brushed the _sel'dor_ around his manacles and they dropped. She gave him a confused look. Stiffening, she put her finger to her lips. She placed her dirty forest camouflage cloak around him and turned to pick up her bundle. She gathered the dislodged _sel'dor_ and hid it within. An Eldan woman walked into the small clearing.

"What're you doin' in these parts, Angela?" The Eldan woman asked suspiciously.

Ravel held his breath. His heart thudding in his ears. He could barely see through some of the minuscule threads in her cloak with his Fey vision.

"I couldn't find sage in my area, Madame Rodgers." Angela answered demurely.

"You best be returning ere too long, Angela." Madame Rodgers warned. "I wouldn't want anything _bad_ to happen to you."

"As soon as I can find some more food for the night, Madame Rodgers." Angela continued. "Please don't let me keep you from your errand."

"Beware of the Fey and the _lyrant_ , girl." Madame Rodgers persisted. Although, Ravel could hear her feet turning to leave. "You wouldn't want to end up like your parents and what those monsters did to them. You see one and report to us. _We'll_ fix 'em."

"Thank you for your kindness," Angela said and Ravel got the impression she made herself look more demure. "I will indeed." He heard her voice quiver for effect. Yet, felt it is real.

Angela made a show of looking for herbs near her cloak. After a long moment Angela removed her cloak from his face while still looking edgily around her.

"You must beware of crows in these parts." Angela whispered. "They're bewitched by something other than Eldan magic. I saw two Fey Lords not far from here. We must hurry you to the river where your scent will dull."

"Why are you helping me?" Ravel asked just as quietly. His violet eyes surveying her closely.

He noticed her gaunt appearance disguised a loveliness in her heart-shaped face. Her hunger made her cheekbones more prominent. Her eyes a piercing grey. Ravel was certain she is not a brunette. It made it hard to distinguish her natural color from her wayward appearance. Her hair is a tangled, matted mess with leaves and twigs stuck in it at odd angles. She could have sold him out and gained something to eat for a day, ruining his life.

Many mortals would have in her stead.

Her face crumpled slightly until she steeled herself. "Lady Marissya saved my mother." She whispered her grief and rage rolling off her in waves, indicating no lie. "The Eld fed her to a _lyrant_. All because Papa was so thankful to the Fey and invented a way to remove _sel'dor._ " She stared at him defiantly. "I promised him before he died to find a way to the Fey—even if it meant walking through the Faering Mists—and give the new Feyreisa and the Feyreisen his invention. If that means protecting you from the Eld...so be it." Angela closed her eyes briefly and did not face him but watched the trees. "I want you to keep my cloak on. Do you understand? We'll walk when I count to three. I'll act like my load is heavy and lean to the left. That way I can support you."

Ravel realized she was carefully keeping her matted hair in front of her face so as not to attract attention. " _Aiyah_." He whispered.

Angela gathered her bundle whispering the count and they rose as one shoulder-to-shoulder. She pretended to glance around her and swore.

Ravel was bleeding.

She quickly made a show of stamping out the last of her _keflee_ to hide Ravel's blood. Her heart cried in protest. It was still somewhat fresh and she was literally living off the caffeine. _Don't be a soggy dorn,_ Angela mentally berated herself. _You've bigger things to worry about than eating. I'll not waste this opportunity to Papa because of some damn keflee!_

Angela pretended to brush against a low-hanging branch and muttered under her breath as she yanked it, causing her dirty skirt to tear farther. _Well maybe too far_. She thought chagrined. It was almost an improper length. Angela slipped it under her bundle and passed it to Ravel to tie himself and shifted her bundle as he carefully tied his wounds. Leaning against her when he finished they made their way onward.

The sun began to set. Angela's mouth set in a grim line of determination as she headed to the river.

"Can you...can you do some magic to your Fey Lord friends?" She whispered softly.

Nodding he closed his eyes to concentrate.

« _Sian? Torel? Hurry to the river. I'm sel'dor injured_.»

« _Thank the gods! Ravel, we can't reach anyone!_ »

Ravel frowned heavily. « _I don't know why that is...but hurry, I'm by the river. A woman is with me. She removed the_ _sel'dor_ _without touching it. It's hard for me to explain. Please hurry._ »

He could feel Sian's surprise but he quickly answered. « _We have loads to tell you. But we can't here. We'll be there in a few chimes._ »

Ravel sensed Angela's edginess. Her eyes watching and listening intently. He could not help recalling how her mother was cruelly fed to a _lyrant_. These parts are known for them. Additionally, it was getting darker. Holding a glass shard as a makeshift dagger in front of her she turned in the direction of the suspicious Fey warriors.

Ravel removed his hood. Seeing his compatriots relax made Angela, too.

"We need to hurry," Angela said quietly. "There are demons as well as _lyrant_ in these parts. The Eld have brought them to terrorize the locals and to prevent messengers to King Dorian."

The Fey warriors stared at her as she carefully sheathed her glass shard. Her hands were badly bruised. Someone had beaten her if her defensive wounds are any indication. It made the Fey warriors sick to see how mortals treated their women.

"What?" Torel asked just as quietly as both warriors flanked Ravel.

Angela ignored them and pulled something from her belt. She walked toward the three of them and put a dab of ointment on Ravel's forehead. "Lean down." She commanded quietly to the other warriors. Ravel's eyes widened. It was a precious vial of anti-demon holy water dipped in a paste to preserve it longer. Angela acquired it from a traveling priest taking pity on her as she hysterically explained her parents' deaths from the _lyrant_. All the priest had on him was the vial and he gave it to the 'poor orphaned spinster girl.'

Both warriors looked ready to protest but she glared at them. "We've no time for this!" She hissed softly. "No doubt you've been spied on by now and the Eld have ordered an attack. _I_ even knew of your existence _this morn_." She said sternly.

Obediently and reluctantly both warriors bowed as she used the last of her ointment. There was none for her.

"What about you?" Torel demanded quietly. She gave him a disarmingly calm smile. "I've already forfeited my life." She glanced at the river behind them. It was clear what she meant to do and it chilled the Fey. "Please, please give this to Lady Marissya. Tell her thank you from me. It's vital that the Fey fight and win against the new Eldan magic ―or whatever darkness―they're spreading." She passed them a few scrolls from under her torn skirt and attached it with twine around Ravel's chest. She stared at his violet eyes willing him to understand. She tore more scraps from her skirt and stuffed his wrists and ankles properly. Angela proceeded to tear apart her bundle and shredded it to make it look like an attack. Everything in that bundle was her livelihood. "Now go." She ordered softly.

"Absolutely not." Ravel hissed. "You're coming with us. No matter what we're going to be slow. And besides," he added seeing her shocked look. "You'll be killed or worse if you stay here. What's the harm in coming with us?"

 _You deserve our every regard for all you've done to aid the Fey_. Ravel thought determinedly. He fully intended to perform a _lute'asheiva bond_ with her once they were safely behind the Faering Mists. He believed she saved not one, but three Fey lives. The least they could do is offer _her_ a new life.

Angela gulped. _Don't cry in front of them._ She commanded herself sternly. Blinking away tears. She gave a curt nod. "I can run fast." She said softly. Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "We need to go. Something's amiss." Her instincts were screaming at her _to run_.

The warriors shifted and Ravel said. "Take a few of my Fey'cha daggers." Angela gave him a confused frown. "They're better than your glass shard." She quickly discarded it next to her torn bundle. _It looks authentic._ She thought morbidly as she reeled from the prospect of living.

Shaking her head, Angela was suddenly grateful she had torn her skirt. She is uninhabited from running. Nodding at the warriors she jogged behind Ravel. Her determination willed her legs to move as the warriors jogged at a decent pace with their injured comrade. Her hands palmed the Fey'cha daggers. Her adrenaline pumped in her veins and throbbed in her neck. Angela smiled cagily. She was ready to stab a _lyrant_ and watch Ravel's back. She could not help but feel appreciation at the feel and skill of the unknown Fey blacksmith's blades.

15 chimes later two Demons roared in displeasure. They could sense Fey but could not hunt them due to their limited territory and a putrid magic preventing their tracking capabilities. Encircling the area they snarled. There were other Eldan sources coming from the shadows. However, none could pass through the barrier protecting the Fey. They sold their souls for power.

Everything comes with a price.

They could not leave without a direct order from their master.

They sniffed the area. Lips curling. There is a woman's scent among them. It was among her things. Yet, the water diluted most of her scent and she was too near the Fey's protection.

They would mention this to the High Mage.


	2. II:Safety (at present)

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. I do own Angela, OC, non-canon and fictional magic. **  
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* * *

 **Ch. II** : Safety (at present)

Angela was accustomed to adrenaline rushes. Her heart beat just that little bit too fast at the prospect of seeing the Faering Mists. It is something she had wanted to do before she died. She knew if she stopped she would be down for the count. She had to keep moving. They had been running for several hours and she was determined not to fall behind. Norban is almost a full marathon-length away from Celieria's nearest cities.

The Fey had other ideas. They arrived at some checkpoint where other Fey warriors were. _They must have used their magic or something ahead of us_. As the Fey warriors parted; she blushed deeply and scowled at the ground. Angela gripped Ravel's blades to steady her nerves. She noticed the pommel of his daggers bruised her palm completely. She smiled wryly to herself. She was aptly familiar with bruises. She slowed her pace and felt a wave of exhaustion give her a head rush. Angela was too weary to be embarrassed by her haggard appearance at present.

"Sian! Torel! Ravel!" Belliard vel Jelani shouted alarmed. "What happened?" He eyed Angela before turning his attention to his warriors.

"Angela saved us from a demon attack―." Ravel began. Angela felt her eyes begin to flutter. She frowned as an unknown Fey warrior knelt to her stunning the room.

" _Ver reisa ku'chae. Kem surah shei'tani_." Cyr vel Lesk said. His dirty blond hair neatly brushed back in a traditional Fey partial pony tail down his back. His light amber eyes looking up at her with adoration and sincerity.

She glared at him.

"I haven't the _faintest idea_ what you just said." She said taking a step back from him. Angela hid slightly behind Ravel. _Bit stupid really_. She thought unnerved. _Ravel can't protect me in his state and this Fey Lord probably called me his whore or something._ Angela immediately felt ashamed of herself. Her mother always said the Fey were honorable people and held them in high esteem. She was more shaken by his sincerity. After all, she had not received gentler feelings in a long time from anyone. A stranger doing so was too much after her exhausting and eventful 24 hours.

Cyr felt an inexplicable pull toward the feral-looking woman. His heart pounded seeing her piercing grey eyes flutter slightly bothered him. He felt a punch to his gut of lust, worry, and savage hope. Cyr felt her hunger, exhaustion, grief, hurt and rage as if it were his own.

 _Shei'tani!_ Before he knew it he was kneeling and saying the treasured words. His _shei'tani_ hiding behind the Fire master enraged him. Glowering at Ravel he rose. _Fey'cha_ in his hand. The bond-madness encouraging his Wilding Rage telling him vel Arras was stealing his _shei'tani's_ affections.

"Stay away from him." Angela snapped, stepping in front of Ravel palming his blades and looking at Cyr determinedly while ignoring Ravel's protest.

"Do you know how long it took us to escape from Nor―?" She swayed slightly her vision sporting black dots. _Not good, not good…!_ She thought frantically.

" _Setah!_ " Bel commanded. "Bring Angela to Lady Marissya. Fey contain vel Lesk―!"

It was too much for Angela. Her body was done. Her neck lolled to the side and she felt her knees buckle. She felt hands remove Ravel's _f_ _ey'cha_ from her. Male voices shouting and ordering about but her consciousness slipped.

Marissya hurried toward the healer's tent and the malnourished woman after being summoned by Bel's worried Spirit voice.

"Merciful gods!" Marissya swore. Her golden _shei'dahlin_ weaves instinctively rushing from her as she checked Angela's vitals.

 _She'd be dead in a few hours..._ she thought disgustedly as she saw the terrible bruises and her ire spiked. The woman was malnourished, beaten and unclean. She summoned reinforcements listening to Bel's report.

They stripped her and placed her in a bath filling it with Fire and Water weaves. The _shei'dahlins_ added herbs and began bathing her to remove the blood, grime and sweat.

Marissya stared at Angela for a moment. _She really is quite lovely_. Angela had dark russet curly hair and fair skin with freckles across her nose and cheeks. The magically enhanced herbs soaked into her pores then her bloodstream as a nutritive aid. Already, Angela looked healthier. Her eyelids fluttered.

« _Las ajiana_.» Marissya soothed. Angela sighed and leaned into Marissya's touch. Her expression frightened but settling as Marissya sent more soothing weaves. The _shei'dahlins_ gently lifted and dried her with Air while creating a simple nightgown using Earth weaves.

Cyr snarled furiously at his blade brothers. "Why are you helping him?!" Cyr demanded. "My _shei'tani_ is injured! She―!"

"Stand down, Fey!" Bel commanded. "Your _shei'tani_ is with Lady Marrisya. Vel Arras is not the enemy. The Eld are to blame for this."

Cyr settled for a moment. Ravel, Sian and Torel were healed by some of their blade brothers as they awaited their turns from the _shei'dahlins_.

"Vel Arras!" Bel continued. "Explain how you met this girl."

"I would like to know as well." Marrissya said sternly arriving in their encampment. Her hands glowing as she approached the injured warriors. "That child has undergone severe starvation, bruises and lacerations. She was living purely on adrenaline and will. She would have _died_ in a few hours."

This halted the warriors in shocked silence. Cyr stared at her in shock.

 _I could have lost her right when I found her_.

"Her name is Angela." Ravel said quickly. "I was felled by a _sel'dor_ trap―they've discovered something," he said seeing a combination of concern and disappointment from his commanding officer and the Fey. "Angela shielded me from an Eldan woman. She said there are demons and _lyrants_ bred in Norban to prevent messengers from going to the king. When she touched my hands the _sel'dor_ dropped to the floor." He unwound the twine enhanced with an Air weave to keep it in place around his chest. "She was going to walk through the Faering Mists to deliver this to Lady Marissya."

Everyone stared at him and Marissya unwound it. "Merciful _gods_." She swore for the second time. "These are anti- _sel'dor_ plans." It was ingenious really. But there was a section torn from it.

"From the looks of it," she continued. "It seems like the maker was a blacksmith. I'll contact Rain and Ellysetta immediately." She closed her eyes to concentrate on a detailed Spirit weave.

"Then what?" Bel demanded. "And why Lady Marissya?"

Ravel looked grim. "Lady Marissya healed Angela's mother." He closed his eyes, a frown at his mouth. "In thanks and gratitude her father invented a way to help the Fey. Both were killed by the Eld in retaliation." His voice turned bitter. "They fed her mother to a _lyrant_."

Disgust and pity filled the Fey's hearts collectively.

"Angela swore to her father she'd give these to Lady Marissya to aid the Fey. She said the Eld have new magic." He shook his head sadly. "She forfeited her life and her anti-demon holy water for the three of us to escape and…" his voice lowered. "I sensed two demons that could not come near us. Undoubtedly, she would have stayed behind and used herself as bait for us to run." Everyone viscerally shuddered. Ravel fiercely looked at his commanding officer. "I would not permit it. It is my wish and my right to perform the _lute'asheiva bond_ to her once she awakens, sir."

" _Kabei_." Bel said softly. "I would be honored to be a witness, vel Arras."

Sian and Torel exchanged looks. « _We should too._ » Torel said.

« _Aiyah. She saved us from horrific death_.» Sian shuddered.

"Us too." Sian said firmly.

Bel and Ravel nodded in agreement.

"I need to see her." Cyr interjected tightly. " _teska_."

Bel inclined his head to Marissya who eyed Cyr compassionately. "She is not to awaken, Cyr. Not yet." Cyr nodded eagerly as his blade brothers released their weaves stifling his Air mastery and loosened their grips on his person.

He dashed to Angela's tent, ignoring the Fey discussion. Cyr knelt again by Angela's bedside awed by his _shei'tani's_ cleansed appearance showcasing her loveliness.

 _Truly an angel._ He thought amazed.

Angela stiffened in her sleep. Her brow frightened and her whimpers became more distinct.

" _Las, las shei'tani_. I'm here." Cyr said tenderly as he swore a bitter vengeance upon those who harmed his _shei'tani_.

He reassured her in lyrical Feyan. She began to settle. Confusion on her face but at least the fear subsided.

« _You're safe, Angela._ » Cyr told her. « _I promise._ »


	3. III:A new world

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. I do own Angela and anything non-canon.

* * *

 **Ch. III** : A new world

Angela awoke to the sound of birds chirping and soft lyrical voices. She slowly stretched trying to remember her surroundings. The first thing she felt was... _clean_.

 _That's right_. She thought groggily. _That Fey Lord said something strange and then I collapsed like a pacheeta._

Angela blinked and propped herself on her elbows. Gasping she marveled at herself. The soft, pale blue linen nightgown is utterly divine against her skin. Angela gaped at her hands.

They were delicate with healed callouses.

 _The bruises are gone_. She thought awed. Angela felt dizzy and groaned.

"You're awake." Marissya said kindly as she approached Angela. "I'm so glad, _ajiana_. You've had a terrible time."

Stunned, Angela's dizziness briefly cleared as she stared at Marissya true blue eyes.

"L-L―Lady Marissya?" She stammered. Her alarm causing her vitals to overwork and Cyr rushed in. Scandalized, she pulled her cover up to her chin.

" _Las ajiana_." Marissya crooned, adding soothing _shei'dahlin_ weaves. "You must rest. Cyr means you no harm."

"Where's Ravel? Sian? Torel?" Angela's voice was strangled and she saw Cyr narrow his eyes, looking every inch a legendary Fey warrior. He intimidated Angela. _Why is he here?_ She thought bewildered.

"They are doing well, _ajiana_." Marissya said firmly. Her eyes softened. "What do you know of the Fey?"

 _Ajiana?_ Angela thought. _Maybe that's my name in Feyan?_ She shook her head.

"Um, nothing really my lady." She stammered, forcing herself to retreat from Cyr's observant amber gaze. "Just that you come annually for Celierian-Fey relations. And, that one is to keep their distance from Fey warriors because they're so deadly." Biting her lip, she whispered, "And, uhm, I wanted―I wanted to thank you for what you did for my mother." She blushed, trying to ignore Cyr's attention.

Marissya gently placed her very feminine hand on Angela's knee making her feel more self-conscious. _Who bathed me?_ She thought mortified.

"Your mother?" Marissya asked sadly.

"Felicity Michaelson, my lady," Angela said quietly. "You came after she had the fever. Papa―Vandar Michaelson―and I already lost my brother a few years back in a horseback accident…" Angela looked down at Marissya's beautiful hand unable to maintain eye contact. "We just couldn't afford to lose Mama, too."

Angela sat there confused as to what she was really feeling. Oddly enough she felt emotions roiling from Cyr. _Don't be a pacheeta_. Angela thought furiously.

Marissya raised her hand to lift Angela's chin and to look her in the eye. "Then I am glad I could help, _ajiana_." Angela blushed, leaning into her touch. _She feels like a mother, too._

"What happened?" Marissya pressed, her heart clenching. _Oh you love-starved child_.

Angela's soft, full lips thinned into an angry line, making Cyr tense. "The Eld came." She said fiercely. "Papa was so thankful―he made a weapon to help the Fey. Somehow they found out." Her eyes blurred with tears. "It was the crows they bewitched."

"The crows?" Marissya echoed.

Angela remained captive to Marissya's soft touch. "I'm not crazy." She said defiantly. Her heart thudded in anticipation toward rejection that her mother's savior would think so.

"You're not." Marissya agreed solemnly. "I merely wanted to ask how you discovered it."

Embarrassed, Angela quickly answered. "They di'n't act like crows normally would, y'know? They were too silen'. They hardly cawed and some of 'em stayed in the same place for several hours. It ain't natural." Her Norban dialect slipped in her anxiety to tell the truth.

Marissya nodded. "Such are our findings in nature when the Eld have a presence." She regarded Angela thoughtfully. "Most mortals cannot see that."

"My brother, Kyle, was a good archer and taught me a few things." Angela said grimacing. "Then Papa hid most of his work in a spot under his smithy." Her eyes clouded. "Papa said to guard his work with his life," she took a breath. "He said he'd hold off the Eld and that I should hide deep in the woods. I tied his scrolls onto my legs and took off running."

The panicked scenes of her past bombarded her mind. She choked. Angela felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She relaxed into it slightly. Keeping her eyes closed she forced herself to continue, her jaw clenching. "Mama was healed and ran in a separate direction from me. The Eld, they tore her clothes off and threw something on her. It smelled like meat slime or something. They chanted and the _lyrant_ came from nowhere. Three of them tore her to shreds." She gasped, her tears trekking down her face unawares. "Papa jumped one of them and tried to get to Mama." Angela trembled. "And the Eld―the Eld _said_ since they knew neither of my parents could read or write then that meant there were no plans." Angela's shoulders shook. "They said I would be spared since I don't know either." Angela blurted.

It had been a dream of Angela's to become literate enough to read some Feytales from a book her mother purchased as an impulse for her children one prosperous summer from a traveling tradesman. As a child, Kyle and Angela would reenact the illustrations and create their own Feytales. Most children are allowed to learn. Except her family needed every available hand since Mama's dowry was her small family farm and Papa had his smithy. Angela was in her first month of an apprenticeship to Maestra Knowles, a local seamstress who often traveled to Celieria City to sell her wares, invited Angela for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn.

Angela was so thankful and proud. She had thought, with her savings mostly going to her family, she could save a few pieces of gold to donate at the Church of Adelis and take lessons from a priest to learn to read and write. Unfortunately, her brother died leaving behind a grieving fiancée. It left her as heiress to both the small family farm and the smithy. Her aging parents lamented that Angela had to take over.

She is effectively doomed to be a spinster once her parents died.

And everyone in Norban knew it.

Marissya pulled Angela into her embrace. "Oh _ajiana_ ," she said sincerely, her compassionate eyes fierce. "I'm so sorry for what you've suffered." Angela sobbed into the regal _fellana's_ silken dress feeling ashamed to ruin something so expensive. Knowing she would never be able to repay Lady Marissya after all the _fellana_ did for her―giving her hope and a reason to live chief among them―offended her and caused her grief-stricken tears to intensify. Marissya spoke reassuringly to Angela in Feyan. Her soothing weaves lessening the emotional impact.

Cyr wanted to punch something. His hand had slipped from Angela's shoulder.

« _Control yourself Fey._ » Marissya commanded in contrast to her maternal care. « _She needs her shei'tan_.»

Angela slumped and was carefully replaced on her pillow. Angela shuddered her teeth chattering.

Cyr immediately wove a ruby robe for his _shei'tani_ and frowned along with Marissya just as Ravel, Sian, Torel, Bel, Rain and Ellysetta entered.

Marrisya winced attracting attention. " _Sieks'ta_ ," she apologized, quickly sitting down. "Angela has extensive exhaustion and wounds." Now _Marissya_ is exhausted.

"Ravel," she said suddenly. "I want you to try a Fire weave with Cyr's Air weave together."

Wasting no time, Ravel approached one side of Angela's bed while Cyr did the other. The tension palpable between them. Together, they did as Marissya commanded. Angela shied from Cyr's Air weave and her hand gripped Ravel's arm with surprising strength despite her wasted body. She sighed in contentment, hoisting herself up subconsciously and clutched Ravel's arms. Angela snuggled closer to Ravel, making the Fire master blush and glance at Cyr. Sian and Torel flanked the young _shei'tan_ immediately.

Cyr had no Fire talent. His magic in rank order is Air, Earth and Spirit. Jealousy coursed in his veins. He forced himself to look at Angela with Marissya's words echoing in his mind.

"She's too malnourished to maintain her own body heat." Bel remarked.

" _Aiyah_." Rain agreed. "Perhaps...Ravel, I want you to guide my Tairen's flame into wrist guards Cyr can create." Tairen fire is eternal once placed into a canister*. Rain wanted to soothe Cyr's bitterness toward Ravel and quickly. He could not afford another complication―especially within his ranks. Besides, he hoped it would endear Angela to Cyr.

Cyr created two large wrist guards for her slender arms. They were intricate with Gentle Dawn and Sunset roses inscribed in them. He passed them to Ravel without looking at him. The roses would act as the pulse point for the Tairen flame.

Ravel carefully extricated himself and replaced her on the bed despite her shivering protest. Ellysetta wove soothing _shei'dahlin_ weaves to placate her.

Rain led Ravel outside the healing tent and Changed into his Tairen form. The Fire master guided the magnificent flaming tunnel into Angela's wrist guards. The roses glowed. Throughout the metallic and leather wrist guards contained the flame. Ravel carefully supported it with a warm Air weave as both Fey returned to the tent.

Angela struggled against exhaustion.

" _Las ajiana_." Marissya said caressing Angela's face. "You're safe. I promise." Angela settled in a strange place between lucidity and exhaustion.

"What happened?" Ellysetta asked as Rain and Ravel reentered the tent. Marissya succinctly explained everything confirming with Sian, Torel and Ravel. Cyr remained silent and attached the Tairen-flamed wrist guards to his _shei'tani's_ slender wrists.

Ellysetta carefully took Angela's other hand as Angela's eyes fluttered opened after being suffused with warmth. Something pulled her consciousness as she stared at verdant green eyes of the commoner-turned-Feyreisa. _She's gorgeous_. Angela thought awed and dismayed.

"What is your name?" Ellysetta asked kindly.

"A―Angela Felicity Michaelson, my lady." Angela answered nervously.

"Hello Angela," Ellysetta said kindly skimming Angela's mind who shuddered slightly. Her filled with fear. Ellysetta's eyebrows raised. "You sense me like I sense you." she said thoughtfully. She regarded Angela with intense interest. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Angela gulped. "No ma'am." Ellysetta's eyes softened. She could feel the disorientation and physiological ordeal Angela's body undertook to survive from the woman her age. Ellysetta knew _exactly_ how disoriented she felt to be surrounded by the glorious Fey. She changed herself in Spirit making Angela gasp as she returned to her mortal form. "How about now?" Angela frowned. "Are you Master Baristani's daughter? The woodcarver?" Recalling where she heard Ellysetta's surname.

" _Aiyah_." Ellysetta confirmed, returning to her true form. "How do you know my father?"

Angela thought. "I remember seeing him in Maestra Knowles' shop once looking for something for his daughters for All Souls' Day." She gave a little shrug. He had spoken of his daughters asking what Angela thought would look well on his red-haired daughter in particular.

Ellysetta nodded. "Would you mind showing me this magic from your memories? Or Marissya? I know it's hard for you to talk." She said kindly. "I don't want you to strain yourself."

Angela felt Marissya's weariness. She frowned at the sensation. Straightening, the young woman sat up with Cyr's help, making her stiffen; but she returned Ellysetta's gaze. "I don't want to overtax Lady Marissya." Angela said quietly. "She's helped me enough already."

"Just close your eyes and think of everything that happened you'd like to share." Ellysetta encouraged. Ellysetta projected her consciousness to Angela, causing her to still. The Tairen fire settled her.

She remembered. Her eyes clamping shut. Little white lines of strain appearing around her mouth.

Flashes of unnatural crows and the red and black magic she glimpsed running away from her home. The _lyrant_ screams froze her blood and stiffened her bones. The world fell apart in a blur of trees and moonlight. She ran to the river. Her brother said water dulled the scent for many predators' prey.

A priest offering her the vial of anti-demon holy water after asking for something. But he felt...like he carried a darkness located toward his heart. They were small pieces. _What was it?_ Some people she met had the same chill near their hearts. Some with more intensity that others.

Stones thrown at her from former friends and neighbors. Living in the Greatwood Forest after realizing her entire home was pillaged and unable to return to reclaim her birthright. _What would be the point?_ She is already spinster-labeled despite being 24 and some months. Angela had too much baggage for anyone else to consider. Besides, she was certain she would be mistreated by any potential suitor since she did not have her family's protection.

An Eldan woman giving her a loaf of bread. She felt wrong to Angela. _Why?_ Most Norbans gave her the creeps. _Was there a conspiracy?_

Losing the farm and the smithy hurt; but she felt oddly free of it. She was looking forward to find the Fey first then maybe return to become an apprentice seamstress again like she wanted. _If she survived_.

Several of her neighbors felt...like a subtle stirring of darkness edging them to harm her. " _Petchka_!" among other lewd chants. She knew she had to _always run from men_.

Spying Sian and Torel after listening to the Norban townsfolk whisper, gossip and criticize. She realized she could find them later. They had spoken to Ol' Man Brind Paldwyn. Her mother often gave him what little extra she could through Wilmus Able for his small house past Carthage Road. _Perhaps he would loan her a blanket for the night?_ The demons got closer. She felt the Dark magic surround her and it drove her mad with fright and self-preservation. She would leave with or without seeing Sian and Torel tonight. She was _always_ hungry.

Some instinct guided her to the very clearing where Ravel was injured.

Angela opened her eyes only to see fierce, opalescent and swirling Tairen eyes. Angela felt like a trapped doe in front of a predator. Cyr's presence felt comforting. He squeezed her shoulder gently. Alarmed at how slender and frail she is.

" _Las shei'tani_." He murmured. Her heart slowly returned to its normal beat, surprising her.

"Those _rultsharts_!" Ellysetta cried fiercely. Removing her hand she said something quickly in Feyan to everyone present.

" _Ajiana_ ," Marissya soothed. "We will let you rest after a moment. There's something Ravel, Sian and Torel would like to do." She gave Cyr a stern look.

Angela was weakening but she felt calmer as she turned to the three warriors she escaped death with She missed the _shei'dahlin's_ chiding look toward her _shei'tan_.

"Angela Felicity Michaelson," Ravel vel Arras said solemnly, taking her hand and kneeling. She gasped. "Of my own free will, I pledge my life and my soul to your protection. None shall harm you while in life or death I have power to prevent it." He withdrew a black _fey'cha_ and slashed his palm and fisted his hand, he let six drops of blood splash on the dagger. "This I do swear with my own life's blood, in Fire and Air and Water, in Spirit and Azrahn. I do ask this pledge to be witnessed." He placed the dagger in her hand. Angela's fingers reflexively curled around it.

"Witnessed," Bel said equally solemn.

"Witnessed," Sian said softly.

"Witnessed," echoed Torel.

"Witnessed," Rain, Ellysetta, Cyr and Marissya said.

Angela stared at Ravel. "It is my right," he answered her unspoken questions. "You've saved my life more than once, _kem'falla_."

Sian vel Sendaris and Torel vel Carlian wasted no time mimicking Ravel's actions and as one they slit their palms and proceeded to hand her their _fey'chas_. Her other hand closed around their hilts.

"If your blood drops on any of our blades we will know where you are instantly and come to your aid." Ravel explained. "No matter what we are doing or where you are."

"I―thank you," Angela said sincerely, blushing. She wanted to deny their oaths but knew she could not. "I hope to be worthy of such an honor." She lowered her gaze.

The wrist guards began to pulsate quickly and it was then she realized they were on her. "These are gorgeous." she murmured marveling at the roses and the craftsmanship. Cyr straightened, his chest puffing slightly.

She frowned as the Tairen fire became more prominent in the Gentle Dawn roses. _What does this mean?_

Marissya checked her wrists. "Incredible Cyr," she complimented. "The Gentle Dawn roses signify her vitals, _aiyah_?"

" _Aiyah, kem'falla_." Cyr explained and Angela turned to look up at him confused. "The Sunset ones are an emergency power source." « _I hope she never has to use it_.»

"Angela needs her rest." Marissya announced. _And so do I_. « _Don't o_ verw _helm her just yet with the shei'tanista bonding_ , _Cyr. I would rather explain it to her gently. She will need another woman_.»

« _Doreh shabeila de, kem'falla._ » Cyr answered. _So shall it be, my lady._

Everyone demurred to Angela who could only nod, surprised and alone with her _shei'tan_.

* * *

I am almost positive I made up the "containing Tairen fire in a canister." Please correct me if I am mistaken. Let me know if there are any typos or misspellings of the Feyan or English languages. I want my FanFiction to be the best I can make it. ~JHS.


	4. IV:Cyr vel Lesk

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. I made up Cyr's surname since I could not locate it in the books. If you see it please LMK the proper name and citation. Also, I think it _is_ Greatwood Forest and _not_ Greenwood Forest. Thank you!

* * *

 **Ch. IV** : Cyr vel Lesk

Cyr vel Lesk sat down slowly next to Angela's bed. Her blush deepened as his amber eyes surveyed her for a long moment.

"You should rest, _shei'tani_." Cyr said concerned.

"Did―did you really make these?" Angela asked, her curiosity getting the better of her self-preservation instincts. Her wrist guards pulsed again. She felt warmth suffuse her and she relaxed deeper into her pillows her expression more peaceful.

Cyr smiled at her. Angela's eyes widened. _He has a nice smile for someone so serious_.

" _Aiyah, shei'tani_." Cyr said, his chest puffing. "I'm the Air master for the Feyreisa's secondary quintet. Fey warriors must learn at least three talents* in order to qualify for such an honor. My other two are Earth and Spirit."

Angela gaped at him, wholly impressed. "You―you mean you made _something_ from _nothing_? And you _protect the Feyreisa?_ " She looked at him confused. "Why does the Feyreisa need a secondary quintet?" She blushed deeply, looking down at her wrist guards, wondering how she could salvage her outburst. Feeling inept and way out of her league in front of such a magnificent Fey Lord. _You've been in the forest too long_. She mentally berated herself.

" _Aiyah_. My _shei'tani_ needed and I provided." Cyr said shrugging. Despite his calm exterior, Angela got the impression he is _very_ pleased with himself. "When the Feyreisa's primary quintet need to rest we take over, _shei'tani_." Cyr explained understandingly. "We also hang back to scout and protect the outer perimeters in case the Feyreisa should be attacked because we are the first line of defense."

Angela looked at him anew. "Do you―are you just _born_ with magic? Are Ravel, Sian and Torel in your unit? Or are they in different units depending on their talents? What's a _shei'tani_?" she slurred, feeling exhausted. She had several questions and felt frustrated at herself.

"Rest _shei'tani_." Cyr said tenderly. "All will be explained when you're feeling better."

He gently wove Spirit to soothe her to sleep and her grey eyes closed. Unable to help himself he kissed her forehead chastely before settling back in his chair to guard her while she slept.

« _Mela, gepa...I've been blessed and honored with a shei'tani. Her name is Angela Felicity Michaelson._ » Cyr informed his parents with a strong Spirit weave covering the large distance toward his family home in the Fading Lands.

* * *

Angela opened her eyes to dusk. Her stomach growled. "Stop that," she muttered irritably. "There's no such _thing_ as food."

Cyr helped his _shei'tani_ sit up. "There _is_ such a thing as food, Angela." He chided softly, worried.

Mariyssa arrived and smiled at the couple. "How are you feeling, _ajiana_?"

Before Angela could say anything her stomach growled loudly.

Marissya chuckled. "This is _very_ good, _ajiana_." Marissya approached her and passed her a _faerilas_ goblet. "You must drink this first."

Angela reached for it, nearly dropping it, and then leaned to her right where Cyr quickly caught her. " _Shei'tani_?" He asked, concerned. Cyr took the goblet and gently pressed it to her lips.

"Drink." He said encouragingly.

Angela mentally sighed. _Baby pacheeta...how much shame can I endure?_

She sipped the water feeling immeasurably better. Although, she shivered at the coolness. "Is there magic in everything you do?" Angela asked incredulously.

Marissya exchanged a knowing look with Cyr. "Well _ajiana_ , we _are_ a magical race." She inclined her head to Cyr who bowed to his _shei'tani,_ making her blush again. "I shall see you soon, _shei'tani_." He turned on his heel and exited the healing tent. He had a few ideas for his first courtship gift to her along with a shower.

Marissya sat next to Angela.

"I know you're feeling _very_ overwhelmed, _ajiana_." Marissya said tenderly. "So I propose you eat and I'll explain a few things."

A few _shei'dahlins_ entered and placed a breakfast table on Angela's bed. On it, they placed a seafood soup and a pitcher of _faerilas_ along with warm bread before exiting.

Angela stared at the veritable feast in front of her.

"Just eat what you can, _ajiana_." Marissya said kindly. Angela gulped the _faerilas_ down with Marissya's help and a few spoonfuls of the protein-rich soup. Angela savored the flavors for a moment and bit into the bread before turning to Marissya curiously.

"Do you know what the Fey refer to as a _shei'tanista bond_? Or why Cyr calls you _shei'tani_?" Marissya began. Angela shook her head. Her rapt grey eyes on the _shei'dahlin_.

She smiled at Angela. "It is a great gift from the gods, _ajiana_." Marissya said. "Very few of our esteemed warriors are blessed with the bonding. _Ver reisa ku'chae. Kem surah shei'tani_ translates to "Your soul calls out. Mine answers, beloved." Angela gasped.

"But―but that's impossible!" Angela protested.

" _Nei ajiana_." Marissya continued. "Do you sense Cyr's emotions around you?" Angela nodded reluctantly.

"Does it feel like you're almost two people?" Marissya pressed, knowing the answer as Angela looked down and recalled a tugging sensation on her consciousness despite ignoring it. "Fey warriors do not make mistakes in their _shei'tanis_." Her eyes softened. "The _shei'tanista_ bonding can only exist where an all-consuming love can sustain and survive or what mortals call a soulmate." She smiled slightly. "It does not feel immediate to the _shei'tani_." She chuckled. "But that is why the _shei'tan_ courts her as she deserves. Protects her as is his privilege and honors and keeps her till death."

"Sounds like a feytale." Angela murmured. Angela wanted to believe. She pursed her lips. The wariness she acquired to survive the past year made her skeptical.

" _Aiyah_ ," Marissya said approvingly. "It is the basis of our feytales." She helped feed Angela a few more spoonfuls. She frowned when Angela kept shivering and her wrist guards glowed periodically.

Marissya lightly heated the _faerilas_ and her eyes widened at Angela's sudden smile, gulping down the water with no hesitation. Surprised there was no more and Marissya refilled it watching Angela closely.

"Hot food only then." Marissya murmured. She would consult with the other _shei'dahlins_. By now Angela should have warmed after the extensive healing from the nutritive baths suffused with _shei'dahlin_ magic. The tairen fire still glowed and suffused her being with warmth; but not as prominently.

"How―how did I wind up here?" Angela asked sheepishly.

Marissya cupped her cheek. "The _shei'dahlins_ and I bathed you, _ajiana_ , using our magic. Cyr is a gentleman first." Angela blushed. "Thank you for everything." Angela said quietly.

"It is _us_ who should thank _you_ , Angela." Marissya said firmly. "Our warriors are stretched thin―and you saved not one, but _three_ , from a horrific death―with another in more ways than you'll ever know." Angela started at that. "Furthermore, I wanted to ask you about the plans your father created." Angela's gaze slipped away as Marissya released her grip.

"I―I ain't never open'd 'em, milady." Angela admitted. "I―I don't know how to read...Papa asked Brother Able to write what he wanted and Papa had my brother draw a few sketches for him...and me―I collected the _sel'dor_ in Greatwood Forest."

"Where did you find the _sel'dor_?" Marissya asked worriedly.

Angela sighed. "Well, I wasn't supposed to be out but I always find _sel'dor_ somehow." She grimaced knowing how peculiar she sounded. "Papa found out because I didn't know what it was and I thought it was his creation at first."

Marissya quickly related this new information to Bel to disseminate to the Feyreisa and Feyreisen, knowing he was never far from them.

"Who is this Brother Able?" Marissya asked, hoping he was a friend of the Fey.

"Oh, he's Wilmus Able's son who traveled back to Norban from Carthage and Celieria City, my lady."

Marissya gently cupped Angela's chin and regarded her with a maternal gaze. " _No one_ believes you're inferior because you don't know how to read. Do you understand me, Angela?" Angela's eyes watered and she burst into tears.

Marissya pulled her into a tight embrace crooning to her in lyrical Feyan with a mother's reassurance amid Angela's sniffling.

"Do you wish to learn to read and write, _ajiana_?" Marissya asked softly. Angela hesitated and then nodded. Marissya could feel the tremors in Angela's body. She closed her eyes. She remembered how Angela said the Eld threatened her family with illiteracy to stay alive and belittled her. It was clear this young woman wanted to learn and do more in life. Her self-esteem was beaten down...but she was down _not_ out. Marissya would do her utmost to assist her new _nessa ajiana_ in Felicity's stead.

 _Well now she can._ Marissya thought fiercely. _Even if I have to teach her myself._ But then she smiled. _Or Cyr can._

After Angela quieted and Marissya gently wiped her tears away she kissed her on her forehead. "Let's see what dresses we have available in your size, _ajiana_." The _shei'dahlin_ announced smiling tenderly at Angela.

A trunk was at the foot of the bed. After a few chimes Marissya chose three dresses. The one Angela selected was a soft saffron cotton with red accents to match her wrist guards. Marissya smiled. _Cyr knows his shei'tani without realizing it_.

"Come see, _ajiana_." Marissya said, her true blue eyes sparkling.

Angela turned in front of the full-length mirror and gasped. _I feel like Ashleanne the Hearthminder_. She thought awed, barely recognizing herself.

Her large grey eyes were highlighted by her high cheekbones and heart-shaped face. Her soft, full lips beginning to smile showcasing small dimples. Her freckles splashed across her cheeks and nose. Her untamable russet curls framed her face in tendrils slipping from a partial updo. Her saffron dress was modest and cinched with red accents and appliqued leaves along the belt, collar and hem.

 _What will Cyr think_? She blinked, confused and then shook her head, turning to Marissya.

"Thank you," Angela whispered. Marissya beamed and laughed, hugging Angela.

Together, the two women walked outside and Angela took a deep breath as the tairen fire suffused her with extra warmth. She walked unsteadily forward.

Sian and Torel appeared on either side of her and she smiled shyly at them. Both warriors beamed at her.

"You bring honor to this Fey," they chorused. Angela smiled and blushed showcasing her dimples. Cyr entered and did a double-take. Grinning, he bowed low.

"You look lovely, _kem'shei'tani ajiana_." Angela blushed, fidgeting before gripping Sian's arm tightly, feeling winded.

" _Kem'falla_?" Sian asked worriedly. She took a deep breath. "I'm f―fine. I just...need some more hot water…" she muttered, shivering. Together, Cyr created a goblet and Sian filled it with _faerilas_ water from his flask and Torel lit it. Cyr gave her a concerned look, eying the wrist guards which dulled as Angela consumed the _faerilas_ greedily. Her eyes stared hungrily at the the empty goblet before she sighed, returning it to Cyr who disintegrated it without a thought. She gaped at the casual display of magic.

"What exactly _is_ _sel'dor_?" Angela asked, wanting to change the subject. Her social graces slowly returning to her.

"It's a black metal that disrupts Fey magic, _kem'falla_ ," Sian answered. "The Eld know this and use it in all of their weapons to harm us."

Angela frowned. "But can't you sense it? There is some over there to the left." She said pointing at a fireoak tree farther back.

" _Nei kem'falla."_ Torel said slowly. He turned to investigate and bit back a curse as his hand brushed a trap that clamped on his arm and he hissed in pain. Sian left to help his friend with Spirit magic flaring. Cyr quickly tucked Angela underneath his arm. A glowing shield shimmered into place around his _shei'tani_.

Angela gasped seeing Torel's wounds as Sian brought him over. "I'm sorry," she said upset as her hand tried to reach through the shield. She could not penetrate it.

She scowled at Cyr. "Let me help him, Cyr." She demanded.

" _Nei shei'tani_." Cyr said sternly « _Fey! Sel'dor traps near the healing tent!_ » He shouted along the Common Path.

Several Fey warriors sped towards them with _fey'cha_ raised as Torel was brought to his knees. Angela gritted her teeth and the Tairen fire in her wrist guards pulsated quickly. She knelt and placed her hands against the shield again disintegrating it enough for her hand to reach Torel's.

The _sel'dor_ fell to the ground, disintegrating to ash. Angela grabbed Torel's hands and siphoned the burn from him sighing in relief as she stopped shivering from exerting herself.

The Fey gaped at her. "Are―are you alright, Torel?" She asked nervously. Grey eyes downcast.

" _Aiyah, kem'falla, beylah vo._ " Torel said sincerely. Marissya arrived breathlessly realizing her healing is unnecessary.

"Come, let's go and leave the warriors to scout." Marissya commanded as they returned to the healing tent. "What happened, _ajiana_?" Marissya asked.

"I―I'm just so c-cold all the time," Angela stammered. "And, well I sensed...um... _sel'dor_...I've always been this way." She admitted feeling more like an outsider than ever before. _Why did I think getting cleaned up would be such_ ―. Her emotions spanned the gamut of shame, fear, anxiety and rejection pounding Cyr's senses.

" _Las shei'tani_." Cyr said calmly, when he was anything but. "No one blames you―least of all Torel." He stood behind his _shei'tani_ his eyes glowing with white sparks in challenge. Daxian v'En Solande rushed in snarling his shields around his _shei'tani,_ red-handled _fey'cha_ glowing.

Angela flinched with a little cry and buried her face in Cyr's chest, shivering in both cold and fright. She had never seen a Fey Lord overreact like that and she vividly remembered Norban gossip and dire warnings on how dangerous and powerful the Fey are. She shied deeper into Cyr. _What have I gotten myself into?!_ Angela thought frantically. She wondered fearfully of the one plighted to her troth. _Would he be the same?!_

" _Setah shei'tan!_ " Marissya snapped. "I'm not in danger! Angela is frightened _enough_ as it is and you're _not_ helping!" She glared at Cyr who quieted his Rage with a few deep breaths and self-chastised his lack of control.

Marissya stiffly walked around Dax. « _I was hoping to finally introduce you to her and you have no_ _idea_ _how long it took me to calm her today after her tragic ordeal!_ » She Spirited him furiously.

" _Ajiana_." Marissya said in her best maternal voice. "You're safe, I promise. Remember what I told you about _shei'tans_? They're fiercely protective and react to even the _slightest_ threat to their _shei'tanis_." She approached the frightened girl, crooning to her in Feyan and her golden _shei'dahlin_ weaves settling Angela's nerves. She looked at the pulsating Gentle Dawn roses slowly recede.

"I―I swear I di'n't mean anythang by it Lady Marissya," Angela said crying, slipping into her Norban accent. "We―I wanted to know what _sel'dor_ actually _was_. Papa di'n't know and I'd jus' collected it for his project because it's everywhere in Norban but _no one_ touches it. It's like no one else can even _see_ it. And―and then I jus' thought the Fey could sense it because y―you can sense ev'rythang with your m―magic and I felt some near this camp a few times but figured you knew and―!" she started crying in earnest, hiccuping.

Cyr felt rotten. Already he failed his _shei'tani_. Dax felt hollow for offending both his _shei'tani_ and the unsettled young woman. He could see she is still too thin for her figure despite the extensive healing she received. She was slight but not skinny naturally. _She must have suffered a great deal more than I first thought_.

Marissya had been unusually protective of Angela and he could see why.

 _So this is Marissya's new nessa_.

Marissya gathered her in her arms. " _Las, las ajiana_." Marissya said gently. "You've done _another_ great service to the Fey. For all our power, we _do_ have weaknesses." That stopped Angela short as she stared at Marissya in blatant disbelief. "It's true, _ajiana_." Marissya continued. "We cannot sense _sel'dor_ until it pierces us." She brushed Angela's tears away. "Were you always so susceptible to fire?" She asked concerned.

Angela nodded. "Mama thought it twasn't proper in all for me to be in Papa's smithy but I liked it 'cause I was ne'er cold. Norban winters are bitter and when I would get too sickly Mama would let me sleep in the smithy. When Kyle died I helped Papa be more efficient." She gave a little self-conscious shrug. Angela glorified her brother and did not want to speak ill of the dead―but the fact remained they _both_ knew she was the better of the two―a real natural at blacksmithing. "Whenever I'd find _sel'dor_ it stopped being hot and I was always disappointed because I finally got to be warm for a bell or two. It's what made _sel'dor_ worthwhile to look for." She carefully avoided Dax's eyes. She felt like a fool for her crying jag. She wiped her tears from her eyes quickly.

" _Nei ajiana_." Marissya said firmly. Angela nodded, swallowing her tears.

"Do you know how far you can sense _sel'dor_?" Sian asked after a beat, with a glance at Torel.

Angela frowned trying to remember. "Well...I suppose around five miles...I had to travel that far with my brother one winter. We were hungry and he's― _was_ ―one of the best hunters in Norban. I found some there in Greatwood Forest. Papa always said to leave some _sel'dor_ behind and I let Kyle tell me which ones to take so as not to look too suspicious." Angela answered. She shivered and Cyr placed her ruby cloak around her shoulders while both Marissya and Torel wove Fire weaves around her causing her to relax.

"Have you eaten anything yet, _ajiana_? _"_ Marissya asked concerned. Her brows knitted as she exchanged a glance with Cyr.

« _We were going to escort her to get something to eat._ » Cyr answered her unspoken question. « _She seemed like she wanted to walk around some._ »

Marissya nodded. "Why don't we take a walk, _ajiana_?" She held a hand toward Angela who clasped it and wobbled as soon as she took her first step. Angela's face burned with shame but she managed not to stumble. _What's wrong with me?_ Angela thought frustrated.

Marissya led Angela outside. Angela shivered and moved instinctively closer to the _shei'dahlin._ Cyr wove a hood for her; which she promptly hid her face in the cowl to stay warm. She breathed a sigh of relief.

The _shei'dahlin_ led her to the center of the Fey camp. Angela paused, turning to her right suspiciously.

"What is it, _ajiana_?" Marissya asked concerned.

"Can you do that, er, mind thing the Feyreisa did?" Angela asked, her fatigue becoming more apparent. "I think if I just _show_ someone what it is...it'd be easier."

"Of course," Marissya readily agreed. She placed her delicate hand in front of Angela's hood. "Just think of what it is, _ajiana_."

Instantly, Marissya was bombarded by fatigue, hunger, and depletion from Angela's body from her physiological ordeal but the young woman staunchly pushed it down so Marissya could 'see' what she did. Astounded, Marissya shared her vision with Dax automatically.

The pulsating Eldan magic wrapped around objects were obvious to Angela and glowed with a faint heat. Somehow, the Eld removed the tell-tale Azrahn to hide their subtle, deadly treachery.

" _Ajiana_ ," Marissya breathed. "You're _truly_ a gift from the gods."

Dax nodded, stunned. "We must hurry while Angela can still sense them." Marissya glowered at her _shei'tan_ and started to protest.

"You have to," Angela said weakly. "Just," she gulped. "Just please give me some fire and that magic water―I'll be fine, I promise." She smiled cagily. "It's not like this doesn't happen to me everyday."

Cyr was outraged; but he could not dispute Dax's assessment. "We're in grave danger," Cyr said stiffly. "This could all be a trap." His mind racing on how best to defend his _shei'tani_.

Angela nodded. "'Ware the crows, Cyr," she palmed Ravel's and Sian's blades and went in a slight crouch. "I'm ready, Lady Marissya."

Shields wrapped around every _fellana_ , Marissya and Angela. The _fellanas_ gathered around Angela offering support to Marissya who took the Spirit weaves and transferred it to the Fey. Each _fellana_ wrapped Angela in a small Fire weave as they gave Angela their _faerilas_ store. She drank greedily. Her body rapidly absorbing the _faerilas_ almost as soon as she consumed it.

« _Be careful_.» Angela Spirited automatically.

« _Aiyah, shei'tani_.» Cyr answered, pleased at her concern. It is the first time she reached for him. Angela started and quickly disrupted the connection. She was perturbed by the idea of telepathy. Her upbringing warned her of witchcraft and she turned from him.

Angela rolled her shoulders back. She frowned in concentration as she sipped the _faerilas_ absently from a goblet a _fellana_ offered. Her consciousness spread outward, wavering a little. She could do a mile at best as she picked out the stones. The _sel'dor_ blurred in front of her as her heart pounded in dismay when the _sel'dor_ disappeared.

« _Las ajiana_.» Marissiya Spirited to Angela. « _Do not strain yourself._ » Angela hissed in pain. Her connection breaking. She shuddered as several pairs of hands caught her.

"Sorry," Angela muttered. "normally, I can do longer." _What's wrong me?_ She sighed, her stomach rumbling. She wished for more of that seafood soup she had earlier. "I think we need to leave quickly." She grimaced at Marissya. "D'you think the Eld know anything? Can you see this?" Her hand on Marissya's forearm and she closed her eyes showing the crows she mentioned to Cyr earlier.

The same hidden Eld energy pulsed around the crows she remembered from Norban. The differences were slight from a regular crow. Doubtless, they were Eldan spies.

" _Aiyah_ , _ajiana_ ,I do see it." Marissya confirmed sending the crow memory to the Fey to beware. She frowned at Angela wondering why Angela kept apologizing. She would address it privately.

Bel appeared looking at Angela appreciatively and speculatively. "Angela's right." The Fey busily gathered their camp and returned nature as was before they disturbed it. "We have prepared Lady Marissya's carriage with the _ba'houda_ horses." Angela tilted her head in confusion, glancing at Marissya.

"It was a matepair gifted to us from the Elves." Bel explained. "We have bred them the past few centuries and use them only for Lady Marissya's diplomatic entourage."

Angela nodded and immediately wished she had not. She felt a pair of strong arms lift her and would have flushed had she not been so weary. Her mind flashed to when her brother had done so as a joke or when she had fallen ill. She closed her eyes suddenly grief-stricken. Tears springing from her eyes and bit her lip from crying out.

Cyr shared a worried look with Marissya confused about her sudden grief. He could access her mind...but it is not the Fey way. More importantly, she was just beginning to trust him and he _knew_ he would ruin what chance he did have with her if he pushed it. Together, they entered Marissya's carriage. Angela's stomach rumbled, and she sighed. "No such thing as soup and food." She murmured. "So _quit_ asking for it."

Marissya shook her head at Cyr not to say anything and gestured for him to lift her as she called for the seafood soup cauldron to be brought in.

« _She convinced herself that to stave off hunger_.» Marissya Spirited to Cyr. « _She won't be able to consume too much because her stomach shrunk._ » Marissya was clearly worried and Cyr could feel her starvation and insatiable thirst as if it were his own. He shifted to support her while Marissya opened her mouth and spoonfed Angela. Her eyes snapped opened and she gulped what was left of the spoon. Angela lunged for the seafood soup bowl, almost snarling at Marissya as she wolfed it down, nearly choking in her rush.

Cyr gasped and tried to prevent her from harming herself. One hand reaching for the bowl while the other wrapped around her waist tightened.

Angela half-twisted in his embrace and _bit_ Cyr's shoulder and bared her teeth at him. Next, she _scratched_ his hand, batting away his arm in the process. Her grey eyes wild. Finishing the last of the soup greedily she looked bereft at the bowl and licked the remaining the residue, scowling at her _shei'tan_ as she scrambled away from him.

The wild hunger apparent in every line of her body. She did not notice the shield surrounding Marissya or that Marissya openly wept. Instead, she bared her teeth at Cyr, considering him a threat.

"Oh, oh _ajiana_ ," Marissya said upset. "What happened to you? Why would anyone be so cruel to you?" Marissya sniffled. She knew her _ajiana_ was at her limit. The hunger and fear making her lash out. She knew this was _not_ her _ajiana_. Marissya accepted Dax's embrace and buried her face in her _shei'tan_ 's arms, taking his strength as she shared what transpired with her mate.

Cyr stared at his _shei'tani_ , shocked. " _Shei'tani_ ," he said gently. His amber eyes beseeching. "You're safe, _shei'tani_." His throat dry, causing his voice to crack. " _I'm not going to hurt you, Angela._ " Hurt by her attack and overwhelmed and grieved as to how to help her.

« _Teska._ » Cyr pleaded. « _believe me, Angela. I'd never hurt you or steal food from you. You're kem'shei'tani ajiana._ »

Angela's eyes slowly cleared from her hunger. "C―Cyr?" she whispered, recognizing him before she fainted. Cyr caught her and carefully laid her back in the pillows. Taking the napkin he removed the soup residue from her face.

He silently accepted Marissya's healing from his _shei'tani_ 's attacks. " _Kem'shei'tani ajiana_ ," he whispered. "You'll never be hungry again." He vowed, shaken.

* * *

References: I believe the quintets are masters of one magic (like Kieran vel Solande) with maybe one or two decent sills unless they are just awesome like Bel (who still is not a master of all four Elemental―Earth!―and one Mystic. Otherwise, it would make him a Tairen Soul).


	5. V: Fading Lands

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by Mrs. C.L. Wilson. However, I do own Angela.

Full disclosure: I could not access anywhere what Cyr actually looked like nor did I see his surname listed. If anyone could PM or review me I would really appreciate the _exact_ description―just to see if I overlooked anything from the novels.

Many thanks for any reviews I receive. They are a true motivation. In response, I do plan on completing _all_ my FanFiction stories :-). They will be posted as fast as I can create, edit and upload them. If you see any grammar/spelling/punctuation errors or Feyan language imperfections. Please let me know―and I will correct them, ASAP. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Ch. V** : The Fading Lands

Angela felt someone gently shaking her awake. Her eyes blearily opened and she saw dirty blond hair lean toward her.

One hand reached and grabbed the lock pulling him closer.

Cyr grinned and kissed her hand gently, pleased. "Wake up, _kem'shei'tani ajiana_."

Angela's eyes slowly focused on him. She quickly released his hair, her face burning. Cyr hid his smile.

"I'll leave you to dress, _shei'tani._ " Cyr stated, turning. "We will be at the Garreval in two bells."

Angela looked confused and then shrugged. She vaguely recalled the Garreval's significance but she was too groggy to remember everything fully. She slowly got out of bed so as not to trip.

She was more proud of herself that she did not need any help this time as she slipped into her saffron-and-crimson dress and was just finishing the belt when Marissya appeared. She looked at her beautiful music box and gathered it close to her. She glanced at the bed wondering how to make it up again and where to store her possession.

Marissya smiled at her. "I'm happy to see you stronger, _ajiana_." She tilted her head at Angela. _Something's still off..._

Angela fidgeted and she said quietly, "Is this where we cross the Faering Mists? Is there something safe I can put this in?" Using one hand she spread the coverlet over the borrowed bed.

" _Aiyah ajiana_." Marissya assured. "We can put it here." She opened the small trunk by her vanity. "It will be safe between my shawl." Angela approached. Her eyes widened seeing the beautiful silk shawl and she carefully handed Marissya music box. She felt uneasy touching pretty, expensive things. Almost like she was too unworthy to touch such beauty. Marissya methodically wrapped the music box. She also added some of Angela's borrowed dresses in there with an Air weave. She took Angela's hand and led her outside.

Angela blinked owlishly and shivered. Marissya looked at her worriedly. She had hoped since Angela was stronger she would not need her red cloak but the Tairen fire surged making Angela relax.

Instantly, her red cloak appeared around her shoulders by her _shei'tan_. Angela blushed and murmured her thanks. The Garreval looked ominous to her with the colliding fierce storms and soft clouds shaping the Faering Mists.

Only a scant mile separated the great two separate mountain ranges. The fierce Rhakis arrowed from the north, nearly colliding with the stately swells of the stately Silvermist range leading to the Garreval. The gateway to the Fading Lands.

It was Angela's turn to walk through the Faering Mists. She looked at the swirling Mists with a sense of finality settling on her shoulders. She had originally planned to making her way somehow on foot toward the Garreval. Thankfully, it turned out better for her. Although, the premise was the same.

She would have to walk through the Mists and hope to the gods that she would make it through safely. There is no guarantee she would not wind up lost for years and driven insane by the Mists. She wanted to deliver her father's secret...but afterward? There was no plan.

Now, she had a _shei'tan_. She rolled her eyes in aggravation. Squaring her thin shoulders she took a step forward after Cyr.

The Mists encircled her instantly. Her senses disoriented. She gritted her teeth.

« _It's going to be OK, shei'tani._ » Cyr's reassuring tenor voice echoed in her mind.  
For once, she was glad of the company.

She felt judgment from the Mists. The weight settled onto her pores. Then pain ricocheted all around her body. Angela shrieked and fell to her knees.

Her pores began to bleed...but not blood...it was ash. She gagged and coughed up ash.

"Angela! _Shei'tani_!" Cyr turned to run back to her before being stopped by the Feyreisen himself.

" _Nei!_ She must undergo the Mists alone, Fey!" Rain snapped, wrestling with Cyr.

« _You don't understand!_ »Cyr snapped, his eyes sparking white. « _I promised her she'd be safe! She_ ―»

Angela's hand appeared from the Mists first encircling Cyr's ankle tightly. She coughed. She could not see anything except ash. She felt a strong hand pull her toward him and she began to cough ash from her lungs.

She rolled onto her side and coughed again. Cyr's eyes glowed white and he forced an Air weave into her lungs to pump the ash from her.

Angela felt Water weaves drench her, removing the ash. Fire weaves replenishing her warmth in conjunction with the surging Tairen fire in her wrist guards. She kept her eyes closed, taking deep gulps of air.

Cyr was shaken, alarmed at his _shei'tani's_ appearence. Where there was skin she was covered in ash three inches thick. Her dress dull from her coughing and swiping the ash from herself. Cyr tore his pant leg into a strip to remove the soot from her eyes with Air weaves and gentle ministrations. She sighed in relief feeling the best she had in a long time. Her grey eyes opened and she smiled, her dimples making an appearance.

"A-Angela?" Cyr asked worriedly. His emotions haywire with fear, anxiety and self-loathing.

"I'm OK," Angela said, still smiling. "just like you said." She tried to rise, but Cyr did not allow her. He picked her up. His jaw set.

Marissya rushed over and checked Angela with her _shei'dahlin's love_. She gaped at Angela.

"She's...of nearly perfect health." Marissya said, awed. Angela beamed.

"So...does this mean I can go running?" Angela asked, tilting her head. Her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Bel knelt and frowned as he looked at the ash, testing it between his fingers. "It's _sel'dor_." He said matter-of-factly.

The Fey took a step back. Angela's face fell, saddened. Cyr glowered. She looked up at him.

"Cyr?" She whispered. He shook his head slightly at her. His ferocity and ire piqued. He walked away from everyone, carrying his _shei'tani_ with him. He could feel Marissya, Dax, Bel and the Feyreisen and Feyreisa following him. The remaining Fey giving him a wide berth. His Rage barely tethered.

Angela pursed her lips tensely, looking around to assuage the tension. She shivered and moved closer to Cyr intuitively. She noticed and estimated around 200 Fey within the palace. Her eyes widened at the opulence and regality.

When she lived in Celieria City she had taken a tour and was put off with the pomp and circumstance of the Celierian palace.

Here it befit a noble race which lived many centuries. They took pride with their materials in their buildings. It was something Angela deeply respected.

« _Take her to my quarters...there is a suite of rooms I've earmarked for you and Angela._ » Marissya Spirited to Cyr, gauging his mood. « _It's private; but I'll be close enough to check on her_.»

Cyr paused in front of Lady Marissya's quarters in the Feyan palace. Angela gasped. The hallways caught the light and created a prism effect.

"I've never seen such craftsmanship like this before…" Angela muttered. She wanted to touch it but did not dare. She looked down. Why would she? She was just a lowly mortal.

Instantly, she felt white-hot anger. Startled, Angela turned toward Cyr. His amber eyes glowing. She gulped.

"May I check Angela, _teska_ , Cyr?" Marissya asked carefully. She sensed Cyr's Rage when Angela did. Already, she could feel the shields in place along with male temperaments.

« _Ajiana_ ,» Marissya Spirited Angela. « _You must soothe your shei'tan._ »

Angela would have thrown Marissya a bewildered look but was frozen by Cyr's amber eyes. She took a shaky breath. She grimaced, paling.

"I―I need Lady Marissya to check my lungs," Angela stated softly. She pursed her lips. « _What's wrong, Cyr?_ » Cyr had a tick in his jaw. His eyes settled from their glow and he opened the door with a puff of an Air weave. Cyr placed Angela in the comfy blue chair and stood behind it. His posture at soldier attention. Cyr's expression drifted into the expressionless mask of the Fey. Watching, waiting and prepared.

Marissya's hands shimmered with her _shei'dahlin's love_ for a few minutes and Angela's coloring returned.

"No running, _ajiana_." Marissya said giving her a tight smile which Angela returned. "Angela and Cyr will remain here and can call me if there are any changes. But, I want Angela to rest until dinner." She glanced at Cyr, who gave a curt nod.

Slowly, Marissya left conversing softly with Ellysetta in tow and a silent Rain, Bel, and Dax.

Cyr immediately wove privacy and locks across the door and windows before turning to Angela.

He paused before kneeling in front of her. Cyr took her hands kissed them. His eyes glowing. She gasped. She could feel his emotions of anger, lust, confusion, and helplessness.

Angela gulped and held Cyr's hands in hers.

"Angela," Cyr said quietly. "What did you mean by that earlier? That you're unworthy of touching anything?"

Angela nearly jerked her hands from his. "I thought you couldn't read my mind!" Angela cried outraged.

His lips thinned. "I didn't have to." He said crisply. "Can you feel mine? And not guess the reasons behind the emotions? Or am I really _such_ a terrible _shei'tan_?"

Angela's eyes widened. _So that's what this is about_.

"I _can_ feel yours...sometimes." Angela admitted. "You're angry...but why? I'm _always_ getting hurt. Actually, this is probably the least hurt I've been in a long time, come to think of it." Angela said her gaze slid from his as she thought aloud. "Why would you feel...helpless? I mean you're _you_." She said exasperated. As far as she was concerned the Fey were a godlike race. "I can understand being confused―I know _I_ am." She said with a slight hysterical laugh.

She did not want to mention the _lustful_ category. She blushed. Cyr's eyes narrowed at her for being untruthful; but chose not to address it. _This time_.

"I'm not angry, Angela." Cyr said calmly, his eyes beginning to glow. "I'm enraged that you were hurt _on my watch_." He glared at her to let him finish before she could protest. "As for being _helpless_ it's because I could do _absolutely nothing_ to get to you." He was about to attack his king for _gods' sakes_ and get ousted for treason. "As for being _confused_ ―well _everything's_ confusing now, isn't it?" He said testily.

Angela sighed. "There's nothing either of us could have done, Cyr," She tried to soothe him. In part because she had a headache forming...and she did care what he thought and felt. She frowned at that realization. Where was Cyr from this morning? Before, he was smiling and now he is angry.

Abruptly, Cyr rose, removing his hands. He rolled his shoulders back and glanced at his _shei'tani_ with his long dirty blond hair over his shoulder.

His emotions were making him feel insecure when before he had been confident in his abilities. Angela frowned as she sensed it and stumbled toward him, clutching his hand.

Both gasped. Each feeling hunger, heat and need.

Angela's eyes were full of fear and she stared at him, frozen. Her focus zeroed in on him. Her breath stilled in her already depleted lungs. Her blood pounding in her ears.

 _Like a skittish doe_. Cyr reminded himself. Shuddering, he rushed out the window.

« _Stay here!_ » Cyr commanded, weaving 25-fold weaves to guard his _shei'tani_. He ran his fastest toward one of his favorite places. The waterfall would give him solitary confinement to provide relief for his wayward emotions to run their course.

Angela gasped, her hand over her heart. Her cheeks flushed. For once, she did not need her wrist guards keeping her warm.

She had _never_ felt that before. Angela shuddered. She did not know if she wanted to feel _that_ ever again.

 _Some things are better off not knowing._ Angela frowned. Even as she thought it. Would she really believe it? After finally experiencing something she heard the other Norban villagers frequently discuss...and be uninvited to?

She had a few bells before dinner. Luckily, there was her small trunk from Marissya on the side table, including her music box.

Slowly, she unwrapped her music box and a satin emerald green dress. She traced the squiggles on the front and wound it up, listening and watching the Feyan couple dance to the beautiful unnamed melody. Her eyes softened. _Cyr made this for me...and look what happens._

She glanced to her right. There was an en suite bathing room. After her day, she deserved a bath. Angela gave a soft snort at the luxury she did without for over a year. Carefully setting down her prized possession and rewinding it she undressed slowly. Angela turned the knobs and the room filled with heated fresh-scented water. She inhaled slowly, feeling the steam cleanse her lungs. Angela unpinned her russet curls and entered the four-foot deep bathing pool, staying close to the edge. She looked at the bottles. She made a face and smelled them. She could only guess which ones were the shampoo and conditioner but the soap was a soft lavender that soothed her.

"Oh, this is divine." She muttered, feeling alive and luxurious. Angela submerged beneath hot bathwater. Her head covered she stayed underwater for a moment.

Meanwhile, Cyr bolted toward a rushing waterfall. Its icy depths settled him the same moment his eyes opened. His mind returning to his _shei'tani's_ instantly. His face flushed. At least he was alone. He had not had solitary moments to himself to really grapple with having the responsibility of a _shei'tani_. He thought it was impossible...until she appeared. Now, she keeps getting hurt and he feels ashamed of himself. His hopes were dashed because he felt he could not protect her.

Scowling at the sun between the falls he sighed, his tears mixing with the falls in frustration and shame. He gritted his teeth.

 _I'm supposed to be Fey warrior...I've gone through the 400-year Cha Baruk and I'm the Air master for the Feyreisa's secondary quintet...Yet, I can't keep my shei'tani from being hurt. And now?! How am I supposed to court her?! When I can't even figure out what to do or say to charm her?!_

Angela straightened. Her expression troubled as she looked around her, confused. Her good mood evaporated. She felt like crying in disappointment and shame. Why? The feelings were too familiar to be ignored.

« _Cyr?_ » She wondered. Her mind searching for her _shei'tan's_ automatically even as her touch was light. But, because it was _her_ touch he sensed it.

« _Angela?_ » He asked quietly. He straightened out of the waterfall. Casually using an Air weave to dry off. He began to jog in her direction.

« _What's going on?_ » Angela asked as she soaped her body. She pursed her lips. Sighing, she rubbed her arms to maintain warmth.

Angela sensed his reluctance and felt irate « _Don't tell me 'It's nothing, Angela…' If you're going to address issues―then so will I!_ » She felt braver when he was not in front of her. She scowled.

Cyr reentered the suite of rooms, pausing. He listened to her splashing about. And closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. He dug into his pocket and took out his courtship gift for her, placing it next to her music box. He was pleased to see she opened it again.

« _Then let us discuss them―after we've eaten_.» Cyr answered mildly.

Angela gulped before she took a deep breath. « _OK,_ » she thought. « _Cyr is outside. We'll talk face-to-face and none of this mind sorcery._ » Even as as she denounced it...speaking telepathically to Cyr felt right with Cyr alone.

Not wishing to examine those feelings deeper, Angela carefully stood from her cooling bath.

She looked around her and mentally swore.

She forgot her towel―and belatedly decided to change her mind on her dress―it was too fancy for her. She should wear the plain, navy dress instead.

Shivering, Angela slowly turned and nearly slipped giving a soft, startled cry.

" _Shei'tani!"_ Cyr verbalized and called to her mind simultaneously _._

Grimacing, « _I_ ― _I'm OK...but I don't have my towel or the navy dress._ » Cyr could practically feel her embarrassment wash over him.

Possessing great aplomb, the Fey warrior retrieved Angela's towel and hesitated on the navy dress in her borrowed trunk and the elegant, laid out emerald satin one.

He grabbed the navy dress and rushed forward. His eyes trained on the wet floor.

"Are you hurt?" Cyr demanded gruffly. He placed the dress over one shoulder and wrapped Angela's form in the towel using her shadow from the window.

"No…" Angela whispered, her teeth chattering.

Cyr lifted her around her waist. Her chest pressed into his and her cheeks aflame.

Cyr kept his face blanked―not wanting to embarrass her further.

Her arms reflexively clutched his shoulders and she continued to shiver violently. Cyr was afraid her teeth would chip.

Quickly, Cyr rubbed her body using the towel and carried her by the fireplace. He tended it with his Air weaves to keep it. Grabbing another towel, the man wrapped it around her head and used gentle Air weaves to dry her by the fire as the least invasive approach to their predicament.

Angela's blush spread down her neck at the unintentional intimacy. She called herself a myriad of swear words her Mama would have scrubbed her mouth with using lye soap, Lord Adelis rest her soul.

 _So much for a face-to-face..._ She mentally sighed.

Cyr removed Angela's hair towel―tossing it to the side―and place the navy dress over her head and guided her arms through the sleeves. Once the dress was on her body Angela allowed the towel to slip.

Cyr silently disposed of it and pulled her trunk toward her while checking her averted gaze. She was no longer shivering and he left her for the bathing en suite. He took the soiled towels and placed them over the tub.

Slowly, he cleaned the bathing room for later use.

A part of him was gleeful at her form―proportionate, supple and soft―a delight. He also felt guilty for feeling that way and shrugged.

He is a man―a _shei'tan_ ―attending to his mate.

Deciding it was time to see said _shei'tani_ , he noticed she was fully dressed. Her trunk in order and no emerald dress in sight. She self-soothingly traced the music box's rose carvings.

He figured he would have to make her a new one. He had no doubt she would wear the roses away. Cyr did not mind in the slightest.

What he _did_ mind was her steadfast avoidance and her obvious self-loathing.

 _Then again_. Cyr mused. _Celierians are very tight-laced_. Fey were circumspect in many things―but physical contact between mates were not among them.

Angela sensed Cyr near her. She set down her music box after drawing strength from it.

Her fingers brushed something. Distracted, she picked it up. Her expression shifting from embarrased to joyful.

Her fingers traced the hair comb. It was a swirling peacock blue with soft opals decorating it in the shape of a pearlescent sea star.

Immediately, she giggled in delight and twirled her hair to the side to allow her curls to cascade over one shoulder. She smiled, showcasing the hair comb nestled on the opposite side.

Cyr relaxed. He noticed how her grey eyes danced and how...lovely and easy-to-please she really is. Her soul soft and sweet, shining like elegant pearls as opposed to bright and shining.

He could rest among those pearls. He could feel safe, too, in her grey depths. Breaking from that train of thought, he caught her eye in the vanity's mirror.

Angela blushed. Her dimples hiding from him before turning toward him. Some of her previous feelings returning.

She took step forward more decisively than she felt. Cyr waited patiently, eyes watching. He forced his posture to relax.

Angela sighed. "Alright, Cyr...what _exactly_ are we? Why, what I just―I just don't know what I'm supposed to do or act or think or even _say_." Angela twirled her fingers through her hair agitatedly, catching his attention to the dark red curls. "How come―how come I can feel your emotions?" Frankly, it unnerved Angela. It made her feel like she was the crazy spinster the children called her.

Cyr could sense her frustration flicker with her hunger. _That_ worried him. Although, he needed to clear up some things with her first. He needed to make certain _he_ did not get caught up in the swirling frustration he previously stamped out of himself.

"You are my _shei'tani_." Cyr began calmly. "A _shei'tani_ is the most blessed gift a Fey warrior can receive." He looked at her intently. "I told you what _shei'tani_ translates to: beloved. Wife. Truemate."

Cyr's eyes glowed softly. "Perhaps...if I show you what I mean?" Angela stiffened. " _Nei_. I will use Spirit, Angela."

His eyes became a lavender tint and his hands raised as he surrounded them with soft, pulsating, powerful tendrils.

Cyr concentrated on the love he witnessed between his parents.

Cyriane and Jaythen v'En Lesk danced the Fey courtship dance, the Felah Baruk, matching Angela's music box melody in tandem.

Angela's eyes widened. She could feel their everlasting love, respect, and protection flowing from their forms. Cyr's father look strong and capable while Cyr's mother had a gentle protection...as if her acceptance was all the confidence her _shei'tan_ needed.

Cyriane had soft honey blonde hair and light green eyes while Jaythen had Cyr's amber eyes and light chestnut hair. Cyr undoubtedly had his namesake's features and his father's traits such as the strength and eyes of his father.

Cyr allowed his Spirit weave to fade.

Angela blinked. It only answered part of their predicament.

Cyr steadied himself. "I want you to think, and act, and be _you_ , Angela." Cyr said quietly. "I _want_ you to talk like _you_."

Angela's eyes filled with tears. Her arms snaked around Cyr and she started to cry in earnest in his arms.

It was quite possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

In Norban, she was considered too unattainable and unattractive. She loved her family. Her brother, Kyle, protected her to the point of driving all the menfolk away.

When everyone died―she was made to believe many, horrid things to survive. She also had to run and live by her wits. She is not the spirited, adventurous woman many were in other parts of Eloran. However, she would do what she must in order to not become a victim in Norban. She knew what happened to women unprotected.

She would rather die than become an Eldan whore or sold off.

That is precisely the secret she guarded in her heart of hearts.

She had prayed to the gods to have someone save her...perhaps she did receive her wish. Only now? She did not feel she needed someone.

 _Or do I?_ Angela thought sniffling. She was a wreck of her former self and could _not_ understand why in the world this Fey warrior would choose _her_.

At first, Cyr was bewildered. His arms wrapped around his _shei'tani's_ frail shoulders and he stood there. Not as a stoic Fey warrior. Her tears awoke the deeper, hidden gentle Fey heart to full compassion.

His long, straight hair tickled Angela's exposed neck and he listened to her thundering heart. He lightly stroked her back and murmured to her in Feyan. He knew without looking for it Angela's wrist guards were pulsating in tandem with her heartrate.

Eventually, Angela's sobs subsided.

She leaned back and wanted to say something―anything but her words failed her.

Cyr caressed her cheek and was amazed Angela leaned into his warmth. He wiped her tears away with his thumb and continued to speak to her. Angela closed her eyes and listened to his voice, breathing slowly.

Cyr softly kissed her forehead then her cheek, surprising her.

" _Kem'shet'tani ajiana_ is beautiful, lovely and brave." Cyr offered. His amber eyes bright and earnest. Angela's grey eyes stared at him, a blush permeating her freckles. "Nothing will change that, Angela." He continued. "You're just healing. Give yourself a chance." He smiled at her, beguiling her. "You're too hard on yourself. Your body...was under a lot of strain."

Angela gulped. "H―how old are you?" She asked thickly. He seemed too mature for her all of a sudden.

He threw back his head and laughed. "Well, by Celierian standards I would be closer to 28-years-old. My actual age is five-and-a-half centuries."

"I―I need to sit down." Angela muttered. She admitted his Celierian age made her relax―until he mentioned being _very_ old.


	6. VI: Dinner

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own Angela.

I chose Cyr because I was struck in the books how minor he is. For example, he dies without a sound when he is attacked. It bothered me. Sian and Torel were best friends and blade brothers until the very end. Adrial had Talisa―and Rowan fought for them both. Both death scenes made me cry and I was determined to have them in my stories with a future.

So, the idea of Cyr as my protagonist happened because I felt he represented the vast majority of unloved, forgotten and sacrificed Fey warriors. This is my homage to Fey warriors like Cyr :-).

Every few chapters I am going to correct minor edits. There will be some additions to sentence structure/description. Yes, the ash will be fleshed out. It is integral to the story :-).

P.S. There is no such thing as Sunset roses. In LotFL, Lauriana Baristani wanted Ellie to pick between Sweet Kaidra (white roses), Maiden's Blush (pink roses) and Gentle Dawn (yellow roses) for her wedding. I never saw red roses listed anywhere (totally feel free to correct me on Feyan misspellings or typos, etc. I made up Sunset roses to match Gentle Dawn. Also, I realized it is 'Elvian' not 'Elvish' and 'All Souls' Eve' not 'All Saints' Eve' in the _Tairen Soul Series_ ).

* * *

 **Ch. VI** Dinner

Angela immediately sat down on the cushioned seat beside the vanity. Cyr chuckled.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I beg your pardon my good sir," Angela said her expression mock-serious. "But it's not everyday one hears of _anyone_ being so _elderly_ at such a _young_ age."

Cyr raised his eyebrows at Angela's good humor and decided to encourage it.

"Well, my lady." Cyr said echoing her. "We do endeavor never to be dull."

Angela giggled before grimacing. Her stomach clenching and her head pounded.

Cyr immediately placed a hand on her forehead while refilling her cup with _faerilas_ and pressing it to her lips.

Angela gulped it down. She prayed she would not embarrass herself anymore by crying again.

" _Shei'tani_ ," Cyr said gently, "are you sure you want to go tonight?"

She nodded. She was sick of being an invalid.

Cyr looked at her for a long moment. "We will go, _shei'tani_ …" He said slowly. "On the condition that if you're feeling _worse_ we're leaving." Serious amber eyes pored into her and she nodded.

Generally speaking, Angela did not argue unless it is very important to her. She sensed his genuine concern for her...and she did not want to disappoint him for some reason. Furthermore, she did not want to embarrass herself at the dinner should she feel unwell.

Satisfied, he nodded. "We have around 15 chimes before we need to arrive." He placed her refilled cup from the vat beside the vanity. "I'll be right back."

Cyr decided to wear light brown attire to match Angela's navy ensemble. Truth be told, they would be underdressed. However, his _shei'tani's_ comfort is everything to Cyr―considering her condition.

Angela sipped her _faerilas…_ settling her stomach. She stood slowly and remade their bed and replaced the items on the vanity.

She studied their suite of rooms. It is Elvian in design. Its forest mural reminding Angela of her favorite spots in Norban's Greatwood Forest. She smiled and dreamt of a beautiful gown to match the room. She felt calmer as she looked at the floral and ivy tendrils following the bedroom. She slowly walked behind the vanity to gaze out the balcony window.

Angela gasped softly. "Oh," she said wondrously.

Outside is a beautiful garden created by Earth masters and Fey gardeners throughout the centuries.

Cyr stood behind his _shei'tani_ , noting the orderliness and her expression.

"Perhaps, we will take a stroll outside if you would like?" Cyr asked.

Angela turned to him with bright eyes. "Can we?" She asked somewhat breathlessly. He frowned at her. "Why wouldn't we, _shei'tani_?"

"Well, it's not ours." Angela said somewhat defensively. She knew her place in Norban and Celieria City. Here, she did not know her place.

 _Ah,_ Cyr thought. _I should've known how territorial mortals are._

"The gardens are open to the public." He said quickly. Angela's lips were no longer thinned. "I'm sorry," she said ashamed of herself.

Cyr began to say something...then thought better of it.

"We should go, _shei'tani_." He said. He held his hand toward her and placed her smaller hand atop his wrist. She looked at him in confusion.

"This is the Fey way." Cyr explained. "If we are in danger then I would lose time to defend you." He showed her his _fey'cha_ in his hand before quickly putting it away.

Angela looked at him impressed. "You move so fast." Angela murmured, blushing to her ears.

Cyr beamed. He replaced her smaller hand where it was and headed toward the door. Unlocking it, he placed Angela slightly behind him as he scanned.

The young couple walked down a corridor and Angela began to cough ash.

Scowling, Angela turned from him. She took a deep, shuddering breath and sighed.

Cyr stood beside her worriedly. Lady Marissya and her entourage appeared in their finery. Angela's face reddened.

 _Oh you pacheeta._ She internally swore. _This is a fine dinner. And look what you're wearing!_

" _Ajiana_?" Marrisya asked, concerned. Angela turned from her and coughed more ash.

"We decided it would be best to eat outside for Angela's lungs." Cyr said smoothly. "And would like to postpone another time to share a meal with the Feyreisen and Feyreisa."

Angela could have kissed him.

Cyr's Air weaves removed the _sel'dor_ ash from her clothing. Angela took a slow breath and placed her hand on Cyr's wrist as if she had not been coughing.

Marissya nodded. "Yes, I think that would be best." Her compassionate eyes surveyed the young couple. "I will relay this to them." Cyr bowed and Angela wanted to curtsey; but Cyr quickly straightened. Angela nodded. Her cheeks pale as they left. Angela noted their clothing and inwardly sighed.

She could make a similar design...but not nearly as fine.

Cyr led them outside under a gazebo for Angela to sit.

"Wait here, _shei'tani._ " He said, kissing her hand. He placed Air weaves near her nose and mouth and Angela breathed easier.

He quickly made his way toward the kitchens and snagged a basket placing whatever he could that would not impugn the royal dinner. Marissya had told the kitchen staff to avail themselves to Cyr due to Angela's illness.

Returning, the young Fey warrior saw his _shei'tani_. His eyes narrowed seeing Ravel vel Arras speak to her. Vel Arras may be his commanding officer...but there are limits.

Ravel saw a shivering Angela as she breathed slowly of Cyr's Air weaves. The Air weaves are naturally cold and she purposefully stayed in the sunlight.

" _Kem'falla?_ " Ravel inquired. Angela turned and smiled at him. "Ravel!" She greeted, instantly brightening. Oblivious to Cyr's growing jealousy and ire.

Ravel smiled back. "It is good to see you again, _kem'falla_."

"How―how are you?" Angela asked, straightening to allow her lungs to expand.

"Well, _kem'falla_." Ravel answered. He immediately wove a small Fire weave around Angela, who smiled thankfully in return.

Ravel sensed Cyr's soft approach. He inclined his head respectfully in Cyr's direction. He could sense Cyr's jealousy. But, Cyr is well-known to be unerringly polite. Cyr returned the inclination and Ravel made his leave.

Angela frowned at Cyr curiously.

Her stomach rumbled as Cyr made their dinner on white-and-gold fine dinner plates and Angela gasped at the beauty and the workmanship, blushing furiously.

Cyr smiled at her. "I figured we should have some finery even if we are not making the dinner with everyone else."

Angela gulped. "Th―thank you." She whispered. Cyr made her a plate and made sure they had a fire to cook over their meal to warm it. Angela ate her steak plate and vegetables in silence, savoring the juicy flavors. She never had it so good before.

Cyr discreetly put more food in front of Angela as she ate with her eyes closed. She savored the flavors and felt...at peace.

She kept eating and before she knew it she is full. Cyr made certain his plate is empty as well and smiled benignly at her as she looked around them realizing their meal was fully eaten.

Angela beamed. "That was wonderful!" She exclaimed. Cyr's smile deepened. His amber eyes alight.

Angela sensed a few emotions rolling off him indicating his peace, delight and pride. She tilted her head at him in mild curiosity.

"Would you like to see the rest of the gardens?" Cyr asked.

Angela stood by way of answer and gathered her plate carefully. Cyr followed suit and together they refilled the picnic basket. They did not want to abuse the privilege of staying there. Cyr carried the picnic basket in one hand while he showed his other wrist for Angela to take.

He watched her carefully from the corner of his eye. She felt frail; but determined. Her hopeful eyes and joyful expression as she looked at the gardens. She asked him several questions about the different types of flowers and what Feyan agricultural practices were.

Cyr felt indebted to his _gepa_ , an Earth master, for teaching him intermediary gardening from his days on his parents' estate. He was learning much about his _shei'tani._

 _She's endearing._ Cyr thought fondly.

Angela turned to look at a topiary and Cyr looked at her, mesmerized. Her russet curls became fiery in the sunset. Her navy blue dress contrasting with her hair and her straight back emphasized her narrow waist. Her profile picturesque.

The young woman hesitated. She wanted to continue exploring but decided against it. She felt like she owed Cyr. She said they would leave when she started to feel weak.

She turned to look at Cyr for a moment. The sunset was upon them and she noted how the light shone on Cyr. It highlighted his handsome features by turning his dirty blond hair lighter and showcased the richness of his amber eyes.

She gulped. Blushing lightly she said softly, "I think I should go in now."

Obligingly, Cyr held his wrist toward her. He noted her willingness to leave despite wanting to stay.

 _She's breathing easier._ Cyr thought relieved. _I'll make sure we do this more often._

"We can always come back, _shei'tani._ " He said.

Angela beamed up at him. Her dimples making another appearance. Cyr decided he would try to make them appear more often.

 _Or at least once daily._

Leading them inside, Cyr saw how Angela's eyes widen at the Fey Amaranth flower displayed in Feyan art. He felt her curiosity and she turned to ask.

"Angela?" a masculine voice said from behind her. The couple turned toward Master Sol Baristani, the Feyreisa's father.

"Why it _is_ you!" Sol said happily. His spectacles slipping. Angela stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Oh this," Sol said with a self-conscious laugh. "My daughter Ellie," he said gesturing toward his new hair that Angela could have sworn was a toupee.

"Master Baristani," Angela greeted sincerely. Angela released her hold on Cyr's. The Fey warrior feel bereft of her presence before quickly quashing his feelings as Angela subconsciously turned her head toward him.

"It is so _good_ to see you again, my dear." Sol continued. "Are you a full-fledged seamstress?"

Angela shook her head, her grey eyes saddening. "No sir." She murmured, looking down. Sol took her hands and frowned, glancing at Cyr indicating he wanted the young man to speak with him later. Cyr nodded behind Angela's back.

"No matter, my dear." Sol said good-naturedly. "Those dresses you made my girls were very fine. Did I tell you they wore them to Ellie's All Souls' Eve pageant? All my girls looked so beautiful―Lorelle even wanted to wear it to bed! Quite a feat for that one."

Angela shook her head, her smile slowly returning. "I'm very glad those dresses pleased you and yours, Master Baristani." Her breathing labored.

"If you will excuse us, Master Baristani." Cyr interjected. "Angela needs her rest."

"Of course, of course." Sol said, surveying Angela for a moment longer, before releasing her hands. Angela did everything she could not to sway as she walked with Cyr with her head held high.

Once they entered their suite, Angela immediately sat down by the vanity, winded and gulped _faerilas_ from her goblet left on the vanity table.

She winced, her hand going to her chest as she began to cough more _sel'dor_ ash. Cyr quickly set down the picnic basket. He grabbed her ruby red cloak he made for her and placed it about her shoulders. Using his Air weaves he removed the ash from her bodice. He knelt beside her.

"Angela," he said once she stopped coughing. His amber eyes worried. "Allow me... _teska_."

Angela swallowed, watching him. Cyr raised his hand. Thin, powerful Air weaves slowly entered Angela's mouth and nostrils. Her grey eyes concentrated on his face.

He used his Fey vision to see using Spirit and Air to enter her lungs. All Fey warriors received rudimentary medical training which allowed him to pursue this venture with confidence.

Gently, Cyr extracted more ash from her laboring lungs. He wove with great care, attuning himself to her comfort levels and adjusting the length and the force of the weave as needed.

After several chimes, Cyr removed the last traces he could see.

Angela breathed easier.

« _Be_ ― _beylah vo, Cyr._ » She said, clasping her hand on his. Cyr smiled faintly at her. _Finally,_ he thought. _my Air mastery is of use to kem'_ _shei'tani_.

She turned from him, a little surprised by his intense gaze. She slowly unpinned her hair. Angela placed her opulent blue hair comb in her music box with great care and admiration. Her fingertips brushing the carvings absently.

Cyr watched for a moment. His chest swelling from pride at both her returned health due to his efforts and her attention toward his gifts.

Standing, he readied their room for her usage. He made certain they had clean towels in the en suite. He ran his hand through his hair after a moment, somewhat agitated.

Angela frowned slightly. She wanted to do something nice for Cyr. Sighing, she closed her eyes. Her mind unintentionally reaching for his.

Surprised, Cyr actually entered their bedroom. "Did you need me, _shei'tani_?" He asked as he stood behind her. Eyes searching hers in the mirror. His hand settling on her shoulder.

Angela took his hand from her shoulder. Her eyes still meeting his in the mirror as she slowly guided him to take her seat.

Complying and confused, Cyr switched with Angela and she stood behind him. Her hand on his shoulder while he still retained possession.

Angela took the sterling silver leaf brush from the silver filigree vanity tray. She began brushing his hair. She gently extracted her hand from his as she set about her task.

Cyr's eyes were glowing slowly brighter as she continued. Her gaze on his hair and not the mirror. She unbraided and brushed his hair. Her soft hands caressing his scalp and he felt peaceful.

Angela always felt better when her hands worked. After a few chimes she set the brush down. Silently, Cyr held her hand, guiding it to his lips. Her eyes jumped, meeting his in the mirror. He kissed her hand gently.

Angela gave him a shaky, shy smile. After a moment, she removed her hand from his and grabbed her nightgown and robe as she walked slowly toward the en suite, before pausing to look over her shoulder. Her blush _very_ apparent as she glanced at the bathing pool.

« _Could you help me? I―I need help with the ties..._ »

Hiding his grin, Cyr stood and as she turned from him. He slowly unwove her ties. His fingertips brushing her skin, making her shiver.

The intimacy beautiful in the mundane tasks between them.

Cyr did smile as her blush continued to her ears and down and around her neck. Pleased, she is affected by his presence. He also enjoyed their telepathy.

 _Slowly my skittish doe begins to trust me._ He thought calmly, he would definitely thank his _mela_ at the first available opportunity.

Finished, Angela put one hand at the neck while the other remained at the small of her back to clamp her dress to her. Moving around Angela, Cyr ran hot water for her bath.

Angela stared at the bathing pool.

"Oh," she whispered, surprised.

Cyr turned to her. One eyebrow raised. "What is it, _shei'tani_?" Angela blushed. "Well, I never noticed how big this bathing pool is." She muttered.

Indeed, what she thought was a four-foot deep pool was actually the _shallow_ side. At its deepest, the bathing pool is seven feet. The forest mural continued in the en suite. The soft green-and-silver ivy trellis mixed with ocean blue tiles.

Cyr bit his lip to keep from laughing at her innocent expression. He decided _now_ would be a good time to make himself scarce.

"The water is at the right temperature, I should think." Cyr commented, taking Angela from her marveling. She walked slowly to the side with a staircase. Cyr chastely kissed her forehead and exited. Angela did not dare glance behind her. Cyr did. Noticing her nearly bare back was an enticing image and softly closed the door.

He put a privacy weave around himself and laughed.

Angela could sense his mirth and put her nose in the air. She chose to ignore him. She _knew_ he must be laughing at her...but she is unsure as to _why_ what she said was so funny.

She allowed her dress to slip and she wrapped it haphazardly beside the towel and her nightclothes. She stepped into the hot water and sighed in delight. She continued walking until she was completely submerged underwater, standing lightly on the ocean tiles. She looked above her, seeing the large lantern with multiple, smaller lanterns. She was unsure as to what it is called and would ask Cyr.

 _Was I really too tired to notice all these details?_ She wondered, rolling her eyes. She moved toward the shallow end as her breath began to burn in her lungs.

Emerging, her russet curls straight from the water, floated about her. She took a guess at which bottles were the shampoo and conditioner and lathered the lavender soap about her, enjoying the deep bath.

 _You could fit two people in here_. She thought, and immediately clamped her eyes shut and had her face partially submerged as if to keep from blushing. _Maybe that's why Cyr was laughing at me!_ She thought, embarrassed. She let out a breath. _Just ignore everything and enjoy the bath._ She chided determinedly.

Cyr listened to Angela's splish-splash movements. Frowning at her changing mood he almost walked to the door.

 _Let her be, Fey._ He thought. He took out his pyjamas and looked at his neatly brushed hair and smiled. He barely recognized himself in the vanity's mirror.

For once, Serious Cyr is not-so-serious.

Shaking his head, he pulled the sheets from their bed, lost in his thoughts.

Eventually, Angela dried off and put her nightclothes on. She began to towel-dry her wet hair. She took her navy dress in one hand and nearly knocked into the door. Her vision obscured by her towel.

 _You're definitely tired._ She thought, rolling her eyes.

Cyr pulled a chair in front of the fire for Angela and tended to it as she approached him.

He guided her to the chair. It would be so easy for him to offer her an Air weave. However, his gift is too cold for her.

He left her to it and snagged his nightclothes and towel as Angela thought about her―no their―day.

Cyr took a small, round stone and allowed it to dissolve in the bathwater. It acted like _faerilas_ and purified the water so he would not waste it. The Fey reused water to treat their gardens.

He sank in the hot water and relaxed.

After a while, he stood before it became too cold and did not bother with a towel since he preferred an Air weave. Besides, Angela needed the towels more than he did. He lifted the bath water and led it outside the window, purifying it again with the dissolving stone. He placed it over the Sunset roses outside their bathing window.

Angela was where he last saw her. He thought she is too close to the fire and pulled her away. She looked at him surprised and smiled. Her coloring still pale but not sickly. He wove an Air weave heating it by the fire and dried her hair. She laughed.

"Handy that." She commented. He nodded. He glanced at the clock. It was fast becoming late.

"Shall we rest, _shei'tani_?" Angela's face became the reddest he had ever seen it.

It took all of his discipline _not_ to laugh.

He took her hand and led her to their bed. The intimacy weighing heavily on Angela.

 _We aren't wed!_ Angela thought panicked. Her heart rate sped.

For some reason―Angela supposed due to her illness and traveling―it never occurred to her she would be sleeping. Alone. With a man. _Alone_. Without chaperones. Nothing. _Just two adults_. Although, Angela did not consider herself an adult in many ways.

Cyr took pity on Angela. Truth be told, her naïveté became _that_ much more endearing.

He wanted to embrace her and kiss her for it.

It also humbled him and he felt determined not to take advantage of her in any way. Mindful of what he vowed to Lady Marissya he decided to keep it simple. So he would not break it in―what he hoped to be―the near future.

"Angela," he said her name in liquid Fey tones. "I give you a vow, _kem'shei'tani ajiana_ , you are safe in my care." His eyes glowed. That was as far as his vow _needed_ to be. "We will sleep." He added. "Nothing more."

Angela swallowed hard. "You promise?" She checked. Her grey eyes too large in her heart-shaped face.

Cyr felt a slight twinge of annoyance. _Patience_. He thought. _She is mortal and used to all kinds of lies_. _She does not understand the Fey way._

 _But she will._

" _Aiyah,_ Angela." He said solemnly. "I do so promise."

Angela searched his face and relaxed, nodding.

She practically melted in the bed. The bed was _luxurious_. The coverlet matched the room and the sheets were cream-colored silk cotton.

Cyr pulled Angela close to him, his heartbeat strong and steady. _Alive_. Angela closed her eyes, feeling the safest she had in a long time as her eyes closed. Exhausted from the day.

The Fey warrior spoke to her in Feyan of promises to come between them as he complimented her on her beauty. Cyr reveled holding her close to him.

Angela slept peacefully and nestled into him. Acting as a trusting _shei'tani_ in her sleep when she did not―could not―awake.


	7. VII: Trying

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. I do own Angela. Asterisks (*) mean I am referencing something. See below for citations.

This is an _intense_ chapter. It will make sense going forward why Angela is the way she is and fleshing out the storyline.  
For the record, all my FanFiction stories will end happily. I do **not** write sexual abuse stories.

Reviews are my motivation. As are questions to keep me on-track. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Ch. VII** : Trying

Angela shifted in her sleep. Her eyes opening. For once, she did not feel ill. Angela slowly turned toward Cyr and stilled.

 _He's shimmering_ …? Angela thought, now fully awake.

Cyr's skin was glowing faintly from the moonlight. Angela had never seen anything like it before. His hair like a shadow across his shoulders. He looked almost boyish, he was so peaceful.

Angela's hand began to trace the lines and planes of his face. His eyelids fluttered; but remained closed.

He leaned into her touch and his leg wrapped around both of hers.

Angela's gasp stayed in the back of her throat.

 _What do I do?_ She thought frantically, her heart pounding.

Cyr frowned, pulling her so close she saw his individual eyelashes. Blinking, she realized they were the only feminine thing about him. _They're so straight and long_.

" _Kem."_ Cyr mumbled. His arm tightening around her back and waist.

 _OK Angela._ She thought trying to calm her heart. _Just settle down._ It seemed to be working. Cyr relaxed somewhat attuning himself to her.

Angela's hand continued her untutored caress on his face. It settled him. Although, his other leg wrapped under her foot. One of his arms locked around her waist.

For some reason Angela felt a sense of calm and peace surround her. It was as if she siphoned his emotions from his sleep-induced state.

 _Well if I'm going to be here awhile...I may as well continue, shouldn't I?_ She thought dryly, rolling her eyes.

His glow intensified due to the moon rising from their window and its rays spreading over their coverlet. Awed by his ethereal appearance she focused on his features. His lips appeared somewhat translucent. His skin flawless. His thick, arched eyebrows looked black against his skin. She thumbed away his frown. His skin felt smooth to her.

 _Just like expensive suede leather._

Cyr muttered something in Feyan she did not understand.

Then he moved.

To settle himself against her neck and chest.

Angela's face lit up like a cherry.

 _Oh my gods._ Angela thought, trying not to hysterically giggle.

At the very least Angela would been slapped for such unladylike behavior in Norban. If anyone saw her...she would have been publicly humiliated and then some.

 _But you're not in Norban anymore._ Angela thought soberly. Her hand remained on Cyr's head. _And it doesn't look like you'll be returning anytime soon_ ― _not that you want to._ She frowned.

 _Cyr's a gentleman._ Angela reflected upon his behavior and her conversation with Lady Marissya when she first arrived. _The very least you could do is follow the healer's orders and try for him...to get well...to get to know him better. He's been good to you...the best anyone has ever been to you._

Angela's family had been decent to her. _But it is not the same as having a suitor._ Angela thought about this for a long time. _He is my first real suitor_. Cyr nestled into her skin. Her heart flutter anew.

She hesitated. She pulled him closer to her and rested her face atop his head. Suddenly very tired, she drifted asleep. Somewhat less confused and more resolved.

 _I don't have anything you could use or want._ Angela thought soberly. _Other than my body._ Angela shuddered. Causing Cyr to upturn his face in concern. She gulped. _I don't have a dowry or even a skill to bring in bread. But...I could at least try to be your friend...and if the gods are truly kind...I won't get hurt like those other Norban women. The Fey seem to highly regard women for some reason._ Her grey eyes widened with a flicker of hope amidst her anxiety. _I hope Cyr is true and not like what I've seen from those Eldan or Norban men._

She gave herself a little shake _Go to sleep...you'll think better when the sun's out_.

* * *

Cyr took a deep breath. His nose scenting a floral fragrance and he opened his eyes. His cheek brushed the softest pillow he had ever lain on.

That is when he noticed a few things. His limbs tangled around a smaller, lukewarm body. And he felt a delicate hand nestle his hair as he raised himself slightly.

His _shei'tani i_ s lovely to look at. Her breath soft and her eyelashes long and curly. More red than brown crescents against her freckles; which splashed across her nose and cheeks accentuating her high cheekbones. Her thick curly hair cascaded across her shoulders.

Cyr gulped. Utterly taken by her. He did not want to leave her sweet embrace. Carefully, he disentangled himself. Angela frowned slightly and Cyr pressed his lips against her small frown.

He rose from their bed and noticed she immediately took his space and shivered. Cyr placed the coverlet closer to her.

 _She's still unable to get warm._ Cyr thought perplexed.

He headed to his bath and mulled it over. In the interim, Angela awoke confused and she slowly propped herself on her elbows. Searching for Cyr.

Cyr touched her mind. His presence soothing to her.

« _Kem'Angela._ » He Spirited. Angela blinked and saw Cyr enter their bedroom fully dressed and he sat beside her.

"Good morning, _ajiana_." Cyr said kindly.

Angela stared at him. Her hand reaching for his cheek. She tilted her head assessing him.

Cyr remained perfectly still. Amber eyes intent on piercing grey ones.

Slowly, Angela rose until she was closer to Cyr. Her hand remained against his cheek. Her eyes searched his.

"Are you really real?" Angela asked softly, her expression serious. "Or are you a part of the moon? You glowed last night. You didn't seem real. But...you're breathing in front of me now."

Cyr smiled lightly against her cheek and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

" _Aiyah, kem'ajiana_ I am real." He answered. "We Fey glow when the moon shines upon us. We can dim it at will using Spirit. It's just how the gods made us."

Angela nodded. "Thank you for keeping your promise last night." She said in the same soft, serious tone. She shifted leaning closer to him. "Your heart...it calms me when I hear it." She admitted. Her blush intensifying but she remained steadfast. "May we do that again tonight?"

Cyr was touched. He leaned against her hand. " _Aiyah_ Angela. Every night if you so wish it." He said sincerely.

Angela smiled lightly. Then became serious.

"I have a lot of things I want to tell you...but I don't know how. I don't know if I can tell you quickly enough. Some things I'd rather not be known. And some things...I don't fully remember." She took a breath. "In Celierian, we call it 'having a few skeletons in the closet.'*"

She stared at him before continuing. "I―I may be ignorant, foolish and naïve." Angela said quietly. "I know I must seem _very_ young and stilted to your 550 years. I've never had―had anything _close_ to―to a, er," She rolled her eyes frustrated and scowled. "suitor before―I mean a _shei'tan_." Angela started seeing Cyr's eyes glowed a nearly amber _gold_. It is the first time Angela openly said it. "It _does_ mean a suitor doesn't it?" She asked, getting sidetracked.

" _Shei'tan_ means 'beloved, husband, truemate.' But _aiyah_ , its associations start with being a suitor." Cyr said just as quietly. He waited for her to continue. His hand remained atop hers against his cheek. He refused to relinquish their connection.

Angela swallowed. _Mama, I wish you were here to prepare me for these things_. _Doubtless, I'm botching it up._

At least she would be an honest fool.

"I get...easily scared because...well," Angela sighed. "When my family…" Angela scowled, not looking at him. She stared at his other hand on the coverlet. " _Died_." She said the word like curse. "I...received a lot of…" _This is getting too hard._ Angela looked befuddled and frustrated. She shook her head.

"I can't talk about that." She said closing her eyes. Breathing hard. She flinched on her left side. Her teeth grounding deep. Drawing instant protectiveness and worry from Cyr.

"I _can_ tell you that...I'm scared of sudden movements on my―on my left side." Angela said slowly.

Cyr's eyes narrowed. He did not like where _any_ of this was going.

"I'll remember that, Angela." Cyr said, his eyes flashing with white sparks. He carefully moved his hand from hers and slowly approached her like he would a wild animal.

 _Nei, my skittish doe._ He thought fiercely. _You've been brave enough already. It's my turn._

"You're not the only one who is scared, Angela." Cyr said softly, surprising her as he cupped her cheek. Gazing into her piercing grey eyes, he noted her freckles are a stark contrast to her blush.

"But―that's impossible." Angela protested. "The Fey are fearless."

Cyr smirked at her. He regarded her fondly. "We are taught to appear fearless. And _aiyah_ we are a fierce, magical race. But that doesn't mean we don't worry, have hopes and dreams dashed, or bleed when cut."

Angela frowned slightly. She did not quite believe him...however, he settled her in a different way. She leaned her ear into his chest. Cyr blinked. Then he relaxed and held Angela to his heart.

Angela listened and sighed in contentment. She snuggled into Cyr. He wrapped his arms around her and held her for a long moment before she began shivering. Releasing her, Cyr searched her face.

Leaning down, Cyr softly kissed her forehead and moved to trace the left side of her face. She trembled; but did not pull away.

 _One day,_ Cyr fiercely promised. _you will know how brave, beautiful and lovely you are. I will make sure of that._

She tensed and slowly tilted her face to his lips. Her breathing remained a little erratic. Her eyes moving around the room.

 _But she's trying_. Cyr thought and rewarded her with a gossamer kiss on her cheek. He carefully extricated himself and pulled her from the bed; and led her to their en suite. Flicking his wrist, he grabbed her saffron-and-crimson dress along with his courtship gift wrapped in the sleeve.

He set her things on the marble table in the en suite. He held her and led her to the bath as he refilled it like he did before. Her form tucked into his side. Checking the temperature, he turned to his _shei'tani_.

"I'll be back in a quarter-bell, _shei'tani._ " He told her. "Please remain inside until then."

Angela nodded. She felt a little out of sorts after their moment and wanted to take a long soak to warm up and clear her head.

Leaving Angela to it, Cyr exited and locked their room by keying it to his magic. It is a standard among truemated males. Every male was taught the same combination before locking it fully with their specific magics. In Cyr's case, he locked it with a combination of Air, Earth and Spirit*.

Cyr walked toward Sol Baristani's bedroom and politely knocked. It surprised Cyr when he heard the clock chime 10 bells.

"Coming!" Sol exclaimed as he fumbled for the door. He had been working on a new block of wood his bond-son gave to him.

"Oh!" Sol said smiling at Cyr. "How are you and the missus doing?"

Cyr smiled back in greeting. "She is preparing for the day. She is well. May I come in?"

"Of course you can, Cyr." The smaller man said, clapping the Fey warrior on the shoulder. "Sit, sit. I'm about to make some _keflee_. Would you care for some?"

" _Aiyah,_ Master Baristani." Cyr said. _Keflee_ sounded necessary.

Cyr took a look around the woodcarver's bedroom. Not surprised to see everything neatly arrayed and a broom in the corner to gather his shavings. There was a smaller table specifically for eating and non-woodcarving things. Sitting, Cyr politely accepted the _keflee_ and drank it, gathering his thoughts as the woodcarver eyed Cyr.

"Cyr," Sol said. "Your Angela is a _very_ good girl. I knew her when she worked as an apprentice to Maestra Knowles." Sol closed his eyes, his lips thinning making Cyr tense.

"What do you know of mortals in the trades?" Sol asked.

Cyr shook his head by way of answer.

"Maestra Knowles either did this―which would be...cruel and disappointing." Sol said seriously, his dark eyes grim. "Or another apprentice did. Because Angela is― _was_ a dedicated seamstress apprentice."

Cyr straightened. Again, not liking where a certain conversation was going regarding his _shei'tani's_ treatment.

Sol set down his cup and showed Cyr his hand. "Do you see this?" The older man said pointing to the webbing between his forefinger and middle fingers. Cyr nodded.

"Angela's has been cut. Which means she can no longer sew." Sol said bluntly. "It also means, Angela's talent is not _only_ viciously taken from her; but so has her ability to provide for herself―or her family," Sol inclined his head to Cyr. "it also means she feels like a complete burden and a true spinster living off the charity of others." Sol's jaw tightened.

"Norban is a terribly backward town to grow up in if you're a girl or a young woman." Sol said grimly. "And Angela...would have been targeted in particular."

"Why?" Cyr demanded, his _keflee_ cup frozen in midair. White sparks appearing in his eyes for a moment.

"Because Angela Michaelson has been rumored to being an illegitimate child. Specifically an _illegitimate daughter_." Sol explained patiently. Cyr's jaw popped.

"Why does that matter? All children are a sacred gift from the gods." Cyr protested vehemently. The Fey would _kill_ for such an opportunity. Parentage and illegitimacy be damned.

Sol inclined his head to Cyr. "And I would agree with you. However, in Norban, Angela would have been shunned and so would have been her mother to a lesser extent. Oftentimes, children are blamed for the sins of their parents despite their innocence." Sol continued. "Angela did not look like a Norban. And," Sol sighed closing his eyes. "I recall her father, Vandar." Sol pursed his lips. "He was a good blacksmith. But a hard man. I believe Kyle, her brother, was a very stable influence in her life. And her mother adored her. But Vandar? I have no idea what he was like. My late wife, Lauriana," Sol gulped. "Made me swear that if things got tight we'd remain in _any_ town except Norban―or anywhere north for that matter. In the event our daughters became spinsters, we would instruct them to do just about anything _except_ go to Norban."

Cyr understood completely. His _shei'tani_ would have been abused. He did not get the sense she had been sexually abused in any way. Her innocence and naïveté belied _that_ exposure. _Praise the gods_.

But she would have been harassed with bodily harm. It explained her skittishness perfectly. It also clued him into her worldview better. Angela felt like a burden as she was made to believe growing up as a child. Obviously, that perception spilled into her adulthood. And, her one talent she felt she had was ruined for her.

 _We'll just have to find a new one_. He thought fiercely.

Cyr drank the rest of his _keflee_.

Standing, he returned the cup. " _Beylah vo_ , Master Baristani." Cyr said sincerely. He reached out a hand to shake the old woodcarver. Fey senses being what they were, they did not touch lightly. Yet, Cyr did not mind for he deeply respected Sol for informing him of his _shei'tani's_ culture and history.

The bespeckled man shook his hand, with a faint smile. "I'll do everything I can to help your girl, young man." He eyed Cyr for a moment. "You're good for her, Cyr."

Cyr gulped and bowed to the woodcarver. "You bring honor to this Fey." He said. Turning on his heel, the Fey warrior exited the woodcarver's bedroom and made his way to the kitchens. He grabbed several hot things as it is around brunch. Glancing outside he nicked a Sweet Kaidra rose for his _shei'tani_ and made his way to their bedroom. He unlocked the door using his magic and recoded it so they would not be disturbed.

Cyr placed their food on the breakfast table. The curtains were opened by Angela and he looked outside.

It rained heavily.

Cyr scowled at the rain. _Really? I wanted to surprise my shei'tani with another picnic_.

Speaking of said _shei'tani_...where was she? The bed was remade. He walked slowly toward their en suite.

She is not there.

"Angela?" Cyr called, frowning. His mind calling simultaneously for her.

He did not brush her mind.

Cyr began to panic. _Where is she?! I locked the door?!_

The armoire door opened. Angela trembled, her eyes too large for her heart-shaped face. She remained inside it, frozen in place.

Cyr raced to her just as the storm picked up. Angela clutched Cyr making a frightened mewling sound, chilling him. His eyes widened as his mind embraced her memory.

 _Angela was in Greatwood Forest. It had been a day since her parents' deaths. She had not been hungry. She was grieving. The thunder rumbled and covered her screams of denial._

 _She was hungry now._

 _Wiping her eyes she knocked on the first door she saw. She was soaked to the bone. Her clothes form-fitting._

 _The door opened to reveal a middle-age man. "Well what have we here?" He sneered._

" _Please sir, may I spend the night in your barn?"_

 _The middle-aged man grinned. "You could warm my bed for some bread."_

 _Angela ran._

 _She did not stop running._

 _She heard the man laugh and say lewd things about her. He did not chase her._

 _He sent his dogs after her. She climbed a tree. Her scent washing away in the rain. The dogs returned to their master and were struck. She almost pitied them but thought they were dogs and had fur to survive._

 _It was the first time she realized what the traveling priest meant by 'you poor, orphaned spinster girl.' She believed in the gods...but she was more afraid of the church. She had seen the way the younger priests regarded her and her brother had told her to steer clear or remain at his side when they went for service._

" _I'm sure they're not all bad, Angie." He had told her. "But men are still men." He shrugged. "Men have faults. The gods do not. Which do you think would overcome a person, truly?" His eyes showed regret. "I didn't mean it quite like that, Angie. Come on, let's go play Stones, OK?" Her brother had said that three days before his untimely death in a horseback accident._

 _Now? Angela was not only a poor, orphaned spinster girl...but she had no skill to bring in bread. Not after what happened in Maestra Knowles' shop._

 _Angela would rather kill herself than be sold or offer herself for a man's pleasure. Her brother and mother often told her she was beautiful; but she did not believe it. If she were so beautiful, then why had all the so-called potential suitors not come near her? Even if she had an overprotective brother, they should have fought for her. It just did not make any sense to Angela._

 _And all she had for her troubles, were tormented feelings and being cold, wet and hungry._

 _Damn the gods and damn the thunderstorm._

 _Angela had found a bear's den and prayed if the bear found her it would be quick._

 _She left it as soon as she prayed._

 _I have to live for Lady Marissya and help the Fey. She thought bitterly._

 _Angela found a thicket and saw a dead doe on the ground. It had starved earlier._

 _Angela cried bitterly. Her brother promised never to kill a deer in front of her, knowing how much she liked them. It seemed a cruel twist of fate for her to survive on what she viewed as herself._

 _She ate the venison. All of it. She tore the deerskin off and used it to cover herself._

 _She lived like that for nearly two years until she met Ravel. Barely a step ahead of her former village neighbors and their wickedness. She was often called the Feral Spinster and would be hunted from time to time. With their dogs. And traps._

Cyr immediately wove Air to close the drapes and gathered his frightened _shei'tani_ in his arms. He wove a privacy weave around their suite to protect against the thunderous sound using Air and Spirit. Anything at all to guide his _shei'tani_ back to him without fear.

He spoke to her in Feyan, forcing his voice to calm when he was anything _but_ calm. He added this current injustice to his desire to torch Norban to the ground. _I'll discover everything_. He swore as he gathered her and replaced her on the bed. He drew their curtains around them from the large, four-poster bed. He lit candles and guided it with Air keeping it away from the curtains and settling Angela somewhat.

She saw the light and felt the warmth. She is still very much afraid and aware she is no longer alone.

* * *

References: I made up the spell around the locking doors. I am sure there are other spells. But, this story _is_ AU. :-). Essentially, anything non-canon is AU.  
Ditto for 'skeletons in the closet.' comment.


	8. VIII: Clearing the air

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by Mrs. C. L. Wilson. I do own Angela anything non-canon.

Haha, yes, I finally had the courage to make my own FanFiction since that book was published in 2007. Special thanks to my friend, **LadyLight0105** for that! I will not stop until it is completed. Yes, I plan on explaining everything to make this a well-rounded FanFiction. You will just have to wait and find out about Angela and the "secret weapon against _sel'dor_ ," lol! Definitely keep me posted on Feyan language and GSP errors. Questions and reviews are my motivation! Enjoy! -JHS.

* * *

 **Ch. VIII** : Clearing the air

Angela remained tense. Not quite believing she was no longer in total darkness with the lightning flashing around her. The candlelight created a soft, flickering warm glow. Easy on her sensitive eyes.

A pair of strong arms surrounded her. A tenor voice speaking in the unfamiliar Feyan language soothing her.

It took her a long moment to realize she was sitting upright. Pressed against a warm heartbeat and a strong, solid shield of a chest. She could barely recognize the frightened noises emanating from her. Her breathing felt compromised and she was barely managing her growing panic _to run_.

But she could not.

Her body is too exhausted and wasted. Her stomach began to rumble and she could feel...emotions atop hers.

Worry, fear, anxiety, frustration, helplessness...barely contained _fury_.

But not _at_ her. _For_ her.

She frowned, trying to focus.

At a loss, Cyr gathered Spirit around Angela and made it where she 'heard' his heartbeat all around her.

It had an instant calming effect on her. Surprised, Angela slowed her erratic breathing. Her own heartbeat seemed to reach out and match Cyr's. Straightening, Angela stared at Cyr's worried amber gaze. Not quite recognizing him, making Cyr feel very sad and like he failed her.

"Angela, _shei'tani._ " Cyr began, his amber eyes intent and worried. "You're safe _ajiana_. I promise."

The young woman continued to stare at him. Her eyes dazed and very confused. Her mind scattered. She looked around her.

They were in darkness. But, not eerily so.

No, it was a calm, safe darkness. The kind where you retreat from the world voluntarily.

Angela reached for a lock of Cyr's hair. Wrapping it around her fist. Frowning in confusion.

Cyr realized her chaotic thoughts were centering better as soon as she did so.

 _Ground yourself, shei'tani_. He thought. _I'm right here, ajiana._

He summoned a few pieces of warm bread from the picnic basket and placed it at her lips. Her hunger beat at him. She immediately bit into it and his fingers. He grimaced.

Cyr did _not_ want to feel any of _those_ feelings right now. He only wanted to comfort and care for her as a proper _shei'tan_ should.

Her eyes slowly focused from their wild, frightened haze once she swallowed.

She stared at Cyr. Recognizing him.

Cyr held his breath and continued to feed Angela by coaxing her to consume more warm bread. He noticed her inflamed hand when she reached for his hair. He did not want her to injure herself further. He pursed his lips worriedly. He knew if he withdrew from her _now_ she would not come to him. So he remained where he was. Her hand curling around a lock of his hair.

Swallowing the last of the bread and licking her lips, Angela took a slow breath.

« _Air, please, Air_.» Angela Spirited. Her Spirit voice choked.

Immediately, Cyr spun an Air weave like he had done before over her mouth. Angela breathed in deeply and shivered from the naturally cool Air weaves; but desperate to breathe.

After several chimes, Angela did not look so...panicked.

"Cyr... _shei'tan_?" She asked in a small voice.

" _Aiyah_." Cyr said relieved. _Praise the gods_. He was _thrilled_ she called him _shei'tan_ for the first time...but unhappy as to the desperate circumstances.

Angela nestled into him. "Thank you for coming." Angela bit her lip. "I'm sorry…" she said ashamed.

" _Nei,_ " Cyr said firmly, his amber eyes glowing. "I will _not_ accept you apologizing for a moment of weakness." He tilted her chin toward him.

Angela gulped. "Then what _would_ you have me do?" She challenged, embarrassed.

"Live and be unafraid." He said matter-of-factly, scowling at her. She sensed his Rage.

Frowning, she put her hand on his cheek, his intense amber eyes widening at her touch. "Why do I sense these feelings from you?" She wondered aloud. Bewildered by the intensity of his emotions.

"Because I _care_ about your health and safety, Angela." He said impatiently. "I'm _enraged_ you were hurt in the first place. _Mistreated_. No man wants his mate to ever be in danger. I want to go to Norban and torch the _jaffing_ ―."

Angela placed her cheek against his and giggled. She nuzzled his cheek, startling him into silence. She felt safer and vindicated.

She started to really laugh in relief and her heart began to hope as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled back from him and Cyr could only stare at her.

"D―don't be mad, Cyr, pl―lease." She in-between giggles, relieved and feeling very much wanted. Almost safe. "I _swear_ ― _swear_ ," She giggled again. "I'm not laughing at you." She said breathing raggedly. Her hand went to her face and Cyr saw her inflamed webbings between her fingers up close.

 _Those must be very painful_. Cyr thought bewildered. _And yet, she's laughing_.

"Angela," Cyr said fast becoming irritated. "What's so _funny_?"

Angela sobered. "You made everything better." She said sincerely, her large grey eyes softening. "I―I was afraid I'd...get sent back to Norban." She admitted sheepishly.

Cyr gaped at her. "Why would you think _that_?" Cyr sputtered. He pulled from her to look her in the eye. " _Angela_." He said insulted. "I'd _never_ let you return to Norban."

Angela closed her eyes and squirmed under his amber gaze and demeanor. "Because―because I just din't wantchya t'think I was some crazy Feral Spinster that you got…" She gestured with her other inflamed hand vaguely. "hoodwinked into plighting yer troth t'." She said honestly, her Norban dialect slipping. "I just din't want you to think I was this extra burden...I―I'm tryin' t' get well, I swear t' ya." She sighed, running her hand through the side of hair and flinched, scowling as she removed her hand to the other side. "I'm not tryin' t'abuse you or anythang. I know I'm strange and bizarre―even by mortal standards."

Cyr prayed for patience. His frustration increasing and he _needed_ to calm down before he blew apart their suite. His magic gathering around him, begging to be set free. _Nei_. He commanded. _I will not unintentionally harm kem'Angela_. _I have control, scorch it!_

" _Angela_." He said tersely. "I _don't_ think you're a burden. I'd _never_ return you to Norban just because you were _frightened_ of a _jaffing_ thunderstorm." He said, his jaw clenching. "I _don't_ like that my _shei'tani_ is unwell." His amber eyes glowed fiercely. "You're unwell because these _krekks_ hurt you." His arms tightened around her as he remembered something. "I _don't like_ that _you_ don't like Angela. _I happen to like Angela_. So don't you _dare_ blame yourself for what those―those monsters _did_." He sighed. "What do you mean? Abuse me?" Cyr asked surprised. _You don't have the strength to...even if you wanted to the shei'tanista bonding would not exist between us if that were the case._

Angela sat back absorbing what he said. Amazement crossing Cyr's senses bewildering him a little.

Sudden instinct prompted Cyr to remain still and silent when he wanted to rant.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked into Cyr's amber eyes as she straightened.

 _He means it_. She thought. His words echoing in her mind. Especially, _I like Angela_. Someone liked her for _her_.

And that _someone_ is a Fey Lord. That _someone_ is the Feyreisa's secondary quintet Air master.

For the first time, Angela Felicity Michaelson, smiled in her soul. Angela had liked herself well enough in Norban. The past two years had been difficult at best. She had been forced to run, hide, and even fight to survive.

Cyr gasped as he felt something in his soul begin to shift. It was as if a small pinprick of light had invaded his aged soul. Cyr felt Angela's emotions more clearly.

 _We're on the right track_. Cyr thought awed. It is not yet there to forming a bond...but it is the beginnings to do so. It gave him proof of his hope and he yearned for her intensely.

Angela studied Cyr's face. She leaned her cheek against his cheek.

They both trembled.

For Angela, it is the intimacy of being liked despite her frailty, her oddness, and her illegitimacy. For Cyr, his heart pounded. He knew he would have to have the patience and strength to be worthy of a _shei'tani's_ love.

Shyly, Angela nuzzled his cheek, reminiscent of tairen exchanging scents.

"I'm not so afraid when you're with me." Angela admitted softly as she trembled.

Cyr bit his lip. Tears pricked at his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her.

" _Shei'tani_." He uttered with a gulp. Cyr had not cried in 475 years. Not since the Mages killed his brothers.

His heart began to _feel_. And he was _overwhelmed_. He dared not move, lest he break his vow in wanting―needing―to be closer to her.

After a moment, he pulled from her. He kissed her hand and was shocked when she pulled his face down so she could nuzzle his cheek again to remove his tears.

 _It's how she kisses me_. Cyr realized. His heart beating fast.

He did not dare kiss her like he wanted. It is far too soon...but Cyr felt like they made it _that_ much closer to getting intimate and knowing each other's souls.

Slowly, Angela stood and walked haphazardly into the en suite to wash her face. She took several breaths against the shock of the cold water from the decorative bowl and pitcher.

Angela wiped her brow with a soft cloth. Her stomach growled loudly.

Sighing, she walked into their room and noted Cyr had made a picnic feast for them. The drapes were open and the last few daylight rays shined through. Their room was neat and Cyr pulled her chair out.

"You haven't eaten all day, _shei'tani_." Cyr said.

Angela grinned at him. The thought of hearty soup and bread made her happy to have a choice. But then her smile faded, feeling her aching hands.

"Angela," Cyr said gently. "Do you want me to get Lady Marissya?" He regarded her compassionately. "You're not a burden to her, either." He knew she wanted to be independent from needing help to eat so she could feel better about herself. Angela nodded.

Cyr called the _shei'dahlin_. She knocked. Cyr opened the door. Bowed to the women and left. He needed to...have space and _think_.

The _shei'dahlin_ entered worriedly.

" _Ajiana_?" Marissya asked. "How are you feeling today?"

Angela stood and winced. "Sorry," Angela said shakily.

Marrisya frowned. "What do you have to apologize for, _ajiana_?" She wanted to address why Angela always felt the need to apologize. It bothered her immensely.

Angela shrugged. "A lot of things," Angela muttered. She opened her inflamed hands. "I'm not tryin' to be a burden to you or Cyr. And I'm really trying to follow orders to get better...it's just today...was a _bad_ day." She sighed. "And now...Cyr just...I feel like he doesn't like to be enclosed for very long." Angela gave Marissya a tired half-smile. "Other than seeing this new world...I love being inside. I never want to feel so exposed or unclean again…" She said looking down, ashamed.

" _Kem'nessa_ ," Marissya chastised, taking a look at Angela's hands. "I appreciate you telling me the truth." She insisted, leading Angela to a comfortable pair of chairs. "And _nei_ , I promise you." She said meaningfully into the young woman's grey eyes. "Neither of us believes you're a burden. So _teska_ , put it from your mind."

Angela blinked and nodded slowly. She could feel Marissya's curiosity.

 _I may as well continue to be so honest_. She thought dryly.

"I don't like sudden movements on my left side," Angela hedged as Marissya examined her hands.

The _shei'dahlin_ eyed Angela. "May I ask why?"

Angela gave a careless shrug. "It's from my time in the forest and having unfriendly neighbors." Angela muttered.

Marissya heard. However, she went about her task and spoke to Angela regarding a myriad of mundane things. All of which, Angela found interesting as she soaked up as much as she could regarding the Fading Lands.

Cyr ran toward the training grounds.

He is cyclones. He is wind shears. His fury knows no bounds.

Cyr slammed Air into a few dummies. Other Fey regarded him carefully. Wondering if it is the bond madness speaking.

Cyr is known to be unerringly polite...however, there was a deadly secret about Cyr.

He is difficult to read, even by Fey standards. It made him one of their deadliest Fey warriors. How else could he be the Air master in the Feyreisa's secondary quintet? The internal battle of an unpredictable element within him constantly churning violence.

He thought having a _shei'tani_ would soothe those violent urges.

It inflamed them.

The only time he felt peace was when he slept in her arms.

 _Am I good enough for her truly?_ He wondered as he sliced with his _seyani_ blades. His eyes were fully white. He created a 25-fold weave to protect everyone.

Cyclones, wind shears, and wind blasts burst from his body.

« _Scorch those jaffing krekks!_ » Cyr screamed. The earth trembled under the force of his Rage.

Angela gasped. "Cyr!" She stood and wobbled. Angela would have fallen flat on her face if it were not for Marissya steadying her.

" _Nei ajiana_!" Marissya said. "He must manage himself!" She could manhandled Angela due to the young woman's frailty. Making Angela angry. " _You_ must calm for him Angela," Marissya continued sternly turning the young woman to look at her true blue eyes. "Your _shei'tan_ is managing. You're seeing why Fey warriors are feared and revered. He doesn't want to frighten you. So he leaves. _Teska,_ Angela."

Angela sank to the floor. Her energy spent after a trying day. Marissya soothed her with her voice, hands and _shei'dahlin_ weaves.

Angela began to calm and little-by-little so did her _shei'tan_. Frankly, her respect for Cyr grew.

 _He doesn't want to frighten you._ Marissya's words echoed in her mind. She straightened.

 _So...Cyr needs me to get well so he's unafraid...is that what he was trying to tell me? And I missed it? Or is there something else I can do?_

Marissya frowned at Angela's hands.

She should have healed completely. But it was almost as if she were absorbing Marissya's magic but...where was it going?

She brought that to Dax's attention and he could not come up with a better answer.

Cyr slowly lowered his shields, still aggressive but not nearly as dangerous as he was before.

Ravel approached Cyr. Who straightened eying his commanding officer warily.

Ravel unsheathed his _seyani_ blades. His violet eyes steady on Cyr's amber ones. Cyr blanked his expression.

Other Fey warriors gathered around them. Buffering magic. It was time to settle things between the _lu'tan_ and the _shei'tan_.

Leaping in the air, Cyr raised his _seyani_ blades. A savage pleasure rupturing within him. He could finally give into his Rage against another. His rival for his _shei'tani's_ affections. He could almost protest it was the bond madness speaking but he no longer cared. He wanted to destroy Norban.

This is a good enough substitute.


	9. IX: Reactions Part I

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. I do own Angela anything non-canon.

A/N: I wanted to split this chapter up because I wanted to reward us all with some Cyr and Angela intimacy. I hope you like it! I intend on doing some more plotline action after this chapter. Please be patient and review!

Update 12.17.17: I fleshed this out more because I felt it was a little too choppy for my taste. Reviews = faster uploads + motivation. Thanks!

* * *

 **Ch. IX** : Reactions Part I

Cyr swung his _seyani_ blade at Ravel's face. Ravel shoved him back and slammed Fire into Cyr who used an Air weave to conically soar the Fire away from him.

 _He wants our mate for himself. He's a threat! Destroy him!_ The bond-madness urged. Other Fey edgily stood on the sidelines.

Cyr snarled and threw several Fey'cha in Ravel's direction.

Grunting, the Fire Master blocked them and his violet eyes widened as Cyr backhanded Ravel another Fey'cha.

Sian and Torel looked at one another and quickly ran in the direction of Angela. Both knew Angela would be suffering soon and she would need help going through the first time dealing with the emotional upheaval of a jealous _shei'tan_.

Their primary loyalty is to her and the Feyreisa regardless if the _shei'tanista_ bonding is completed.

Torel angrily muttered under his breath. "They're evenly matched! Air and Fire go well together. Earth helps everyone and Water helps Air. How could they even think to be jealous and fight like this?"

Sian sighed. "Torel, it's part of the ritual. Any male is a threat. _Krekk_ , even Master Baristani would be considered a threat to Angela by Cyr in this state."

Rushing toward Angela's suite the Fey warriors knocked.

Surprised by the knock, Angela stood slowly from her chair by the fire. Lady Marissya had left her after she calmed and ate a small dinner with her. Angela saved much of their meal for Cyr when he returned. Marissya helped Angela change into her nightgown and close the drapes to keep the warmth in.

Angela sighed. _Where is Cyr_? She wondered, perplexed. _He should've_ ―.

Gasping, she nearly fell to the floor. Her mind intuitively opening for the first time to Cyr's. Her breathing ragged as she coughed and her muscles ached as savage pleasure to attack someone coursed through her veins. Her eyes opening wide as platinum bands crisscrossed her piercing grey irises.

Angela screamed falling to her knees.

 _She is power. She is cyclones. She is wind shears. Her fury knows no bounds._

Her heart pounded. She could not form a coherent thought. Angela had the presence of mind to grab a light brown dress and tug it over her nightdress as she wobbled to the door.

She coughed more _sel'dor_ from her lungs. The _sel'dor_ did not disappear. It remained gathering like a cloud at her knees. She ran out of the palace uncomprehending the shouts of her _lu'tans_. She vaguely registered shocked Feyan stares and rippling Feyan tapestries as she bolted out the large double doors.

Angela ran toward the forest nearly a blur in the direction only her feet knew.

" _Kem'falla! Parei!"_ Sian shouted running at her. His wide, fearful blue eyes were focused on her as he raised his hands to grab her from the danger behind her.

Her eyes glowed platinum. Her hand shot out and the _sel'dor_ ash changed into a sword forming platinum bands. She pointed the blade in Sian's direction although apparent confusion overwhelmed her.

"Sian?" Angela asked confused.

" _Kem'falla!_ It's not safe for you here." Sian said worriedly. Angela tilted her head in confusion. Seeing the weapon in her hand startled her.

Gasping, she dropped the sword she created and stumbled backward disoriented and her head pounding just as Ravel threw a Fey'cha aimed for Cyr.

" _NEEEEI!_ " Ravel and Cyr shouted together. Each slamming a protective shield toward Angela.

Angela's gaze focused solely on the Fey'cha making its way with deadly accuracy to her throat. Her hand shot out.

She caught the blade between her inflamed fingers. Her chest heaving with shock while Angela's platinum-banded eyes glowed brightly and a moment later she fainted.

Sian and Torel caught Angela and glowered at Ravel. "She needs Fire, now!" Torel snapped furiously.

Ravel wrapped Angela in a Fire weave just as Cyr wove Earth and Sian wove Spirit. Angela's platinum eyes opened and then faded as her whole body healed before their eyes. Her russet hair became a few shades brighter.

"Angela?" Cyr asked anxiously. His amber eyes tense and his dirty blond hair disheveled. His cheek cut and bled profusely despite being a minor cut. Both Fey looked worse for wear as they awaited anxiously for their beloved Angela to comprehend them.

The woman pulled her heavy curtain of curls back from her face and stared at the worried Fey warriors. "Cyr?" Angela asked uncertainly. Before her hand came to her face and she closed her eyes. The world spinning so much she felt nauseated. Gulping the young woman turned and found Sian with a strange sense making her frown. _It feels like...a bubbling current? Is that Sian's gift? Water?_ And she clasped Sian's hand. "Did I…?" Angela gulped upset. The unfinished question ringing with her fear, shame and guilt from possibly stabbing her _lu'tan_ to death.

" _Nei, kem'falla_." Sian said patiently. "You didn't harm me at all."

Relieved, Angela frowned at Cyr's and Ravel's gazes. "What exactly happened here?" Angela asked suspiciously. "I thought you were in danger?" Her eyes flashing at her _shei'tan_ and her _lu'tan_.

Both men exchanged a telling glance.

" _Kem'falla_ ," Sian interrupted, shifting closer to her protectively. "With respect, what could you have done?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure how Fey women do things...but in Norban, I would have had to grab a blade myself to end a problem."

Everyone started at that.

"What? After the bear attacks we lost many men. Hence, why Norbans didn't drown their second daughters anymore." Angela said matter-of-factly.

"What?" Cyr demanded quietly. "They _drowned_ their _daughters_?" _What kind of backwards town did kem'Angela grow up in?!_

Angela nodded. "Well of course," Angela said shrugging. "Girls are burdensome. We need more men in the woods. So after too many male deaths we all carried daggers." Angela's expression stiffened. "In my case, I grew up in a smithy so handling a sword was easier for me whenever Papa and Mama were asleep." In fact, she was surprised her brother found out despite the telling signs of her sword practice. Vandar and Felicity Michaelson seemed none the wiser.

Angela frowned at everyone's shocked, angry looks.

"What?" Angela asked, perplexed.

Cyr remained at Angela's side as he slowly tugged her into a standing position.

« _Don't say anything._ » Cyr Spirited. « _We need to go right now. I'll explain everything later._ »

Without protest, Angela took Cyr's wrist the Fey way. He silently led her to their room and quickly shut their door, locking it with his magical combination and placing a strong privacy weave around the perimeter of their suite. It was fast becoming a habit for him to do so.

Cyr breathed in slowly, centering himself before turning to his _shei'tani_.

He gaped at her. "Angela...you look…" He said inelegantly.

Angela scowled. "I look awful and I know it. I was just about to settle down and wait for you to share dinner and then all of a sudden I get pulled in by some―some unseen force and _then you're_ _fighting Ravel._ Care to explain?" Angela asked waspishly. Her hands on her hips.

Cyr blinked, immediately jealous. Turning from her he walked stiffly to the vanity and began removing his weapons to place on the small table designated for that purpose.

Frowning, Angela followed him. Miffed at his retreating form. She decided she _would_ have an answer from him whether he liked it or not.

"We were having a gentleman's quarrel." Cyr muttered. Hating how petulant he sounded.

"A gentleman's quarrel? You mean like what those Celierian lordlings are always goin' on 'bout?" Angela asked curiously. "I never witnessed one myself, mind, but…" Sighing, Angela nearly jumped back as she stared at her appearance in the vanity mirror. Suddenly nervous, she slowly turned her hands over and then looked back at her reflection in awe.

She looked lovelier than ever. Her skin is smoother and her freckles more pronounced. Her russet hair became more like wine red.

Her hands were healed and showed only thin scarring on the webbings.

Angela's eyes filled with tears and she hugged Cyr from behind, nuzzling his back. Angela's tears fell to the ground, hardening into _sel'dor_ pearls. Neither of them paid any attention to the sound since both were too tense from their early evening run-in; ad Angela was sniffling.

"How…?" She asked in choked voice. "How―did you remove them?" The pain of her shame had disappeared. Angela realized she felt the best she ever had.

Gasping at her touch and soft body pressed into him, Cyr could only look at her expression from the mirror.

"I don't know, _ajiana_." He answered thickly. He half-turned and repositioned them by using one arm to pull her closer to him and the other tilt her head back. "But I'm more than happy to say _bellah sallan_." _Praise the gods_. He said quietly.

Angela gulped, blushing, as she stared up at Cyr's intense amber eyes boring into her.

She was acutely aware of her ruffled appearance and the thin fabric of her brown dress acting as a makeshift robe over her _very_ thin rose-colored nightgown. She never felt so naked wearing something before.

Cyr leaned down and nuzzled her cheek with his, making her blush deepen and her eyes widen more as she turned slightly toward his caress.

" _Kem_." He said softly. "Tell me you're _kem'Angela_." He demanded softly.

Angela gulped. "I don't even know what that means…" Angela protested breathlessly.

" _Kem_ means 'mine.'" Cyr translated in her ear making her shiver. " _Kem'Angela_ means 'my Angela.'" He brushed his lips against her temple. "I need to know that _you_ know you're _mine_." He admitted, hating himself for being so insecure.

Angela blinked. "Well, only if this makes you... _kem'Cyr_?" Angela asked, sure he would say no. "will I ever say I'm―I'm…"

He pulled back, surprising her. " _Aiyah_ ," Cyr said in a fierce whisper, eyes beginning to glow amber gold. "I will always be your _kem'Cyr_ , _shei'tani._ "

Angela stared at him. "But that's not how this works." Angela protested, lashing out. Her chest heaving. Nipples brushing against the silken fabric of her nightgown making her shiver and wince at the sensation. Angela's eyes becoming unfocused as she shook her head to clear it. The silken fabric stuck to her rib cage and she could feel the individual fibers settle over her suddenly sensitized flesh.

"What do you mean?" Cyr growled, annoyed. His temper flaring in tandem with the bond-madness.

" _You're_ a _lord_." Angela pointed out. "I'm just a―a blacksmith's daughter and a _disgraced_ seamstress apprentice at that!" Angela said hotly. "You can't _possibly_ be interested in me. I've no dowry. No future. I've nothing to my name other than my life." _And my body._ Angela silently admitted. _And I'll die before I give that up to anyone!_

Her body was the only part of her she ever kept safe. Not her mind. Not her heart. Those had been harmed by the _lyrant_ and her former neighbors.

Cyr took a deep breath. "Angela, I think we're talking at cross-purposes." He managed to say, feeling frustrated and gobsmacked. He could only _just_ manage the bond-madness whispering to him that she is rejecting him and it was _all over_.

Angela shook her head stubbornly, confused.

Cyr held on to Angela's arms and decided that talking was getting him nowhere.

 _But neither can I fully kiss her or show her what I mean the way I need to._ He thought aggravated. _It'll only make her a skittish doe again._

Time for a little tairen ingenuity.

He quickly wove Spirit around them using his heartbeat calming her while Cyr lifted her promptly sat on the settee and situated her on his lap. Angela could only gape at him.

If he was not so frustrated by the day and their situation he would have laughed.

Cyr reached for her mind and opened himself to her. Thinking he would _slowly_ introduce her to feeling a _shei'tan's_ hope, and the gentler feelings she so obviously needed. Maybe then he could _explain_ the _shei'tanista_ bonding to her narrow, Celierian-bred mind.

He had not anticipated _her_ response.

Angela flung her arms around Cyr's arms and shivered as his feelings ranging from fear and frustration all the way to lust and warmth bombarded her senses. It made her arch her back. Her breasts aligned to his face and she instinctively pulled his head into her chest.

« _What's happening to me?_ » Angela cried. She felt the low, wicked pool of fire slowly uncurl in her belly and deeper. Her clothes felt wrong. Her skin feeling two sizes too small.

Cyr sighed in relief as he nuzzled her sensitive breasts with his face. His hands pulled her curls forcing her neck to bare its vulnerability to him as he began to shape her back.

" _Kem'shei'tani_ is hungry for her mate." Cyr answered with a growl. "As gods help me, am I."

He pulled her closer to him and licked the column of soft flesh beckoning at him. Angela cried out, arching more fully as Cyr kissed her neck up to her jaw line. His fingers undoing the laces of her brown dress.

He began crooning to her in Feyan and Celierian.

"You're safe, _ajiana_." He told her sincerely. "I will not mate with you until you ask of me to do so...but I must attend to my mate's needs." « _For I would be a lacking shei'tan._ »

Cyr's hands pulled at her brown dress slowly before undoing it completely at the arms with an Earth weave. His hands caressing her back as he listened to her soft cries and pants at the new world of sensation he created for her to feel. Angela squirmed making his job easier at removing her dress down her waist.

He allowed his hands to travel south and remove the skirt part of her dress down to her thighs. He growled low in his throat as he began to caress her thighs having an instant mewling sound he immediately committed to memory. Grinning against Angela's jawline Cyr completely unraveled the remainder of her dress with two Earth weaves. He tugged and ignored it as it fell to the wooden floor.

Now, Angela only had her silken nightgown covering her.

Her eyes clamped shut as she shivered. Cyr softened seeing her innocent expression in fright and confused desire.

« _Be not afraid, ajiana_ » Cyr Spirited her. « _I do not know what you've been taught. Or what you've experienced. But mating is beautiful when it's done properly._ »

His hands shaped her strong legs and he growled in approval as the silk teased her delighting him as she panted and moaned. _So strong, soft and beautiful._ His hands continued their mission to shape her from waist to knee and he imagined her without clothes.

Cyr quickly turned his attention to her heart-shaped face with his kisses for he did not want to be further tempted by her tempting flesh when one Spirit weave could easily undo her flimsy nightgown.

He noticed how she instinctively tilted her neck to side for his mouth. Smiling, he found her ear and began to suckle and lick her earlobe making Angela give a wild cry.

Grinning, the Fey warrior turned her head to the side and did the same thing to her other ear causing his _shei'tani_ to moan and shiver. Continuing with his touches and ministrations led to Angela to squirm, gasp, moan and writhe. She ground her buttocks into his thigh and he shivered. His eyes flaring bright amber gold.

One hand raised, he gently cupped her breast. Angela gasped, eyes wide open and her mouth forming a perfect 'O.'

Cyr immediately tilted her face to him and looked her in the eye.

" _Kem'Angela_ ," He said softly. His hair sticking in different directions from her hands still remaining in his scalp. " _Kem'shei'tani. Kem'ajiana_."

He kissed her sweetly along her face. Using his heartbeat from the Spirit weave to assist in calming her racing heart against his hand he carefully moved his hand from one breast to the other and began to kiss her neck and collarbone. His other hand caressing her hair and holding her head in place.

Angela shallow breaths and gasps became quicker as Cyr's kisses overwhelmed her senses and his hand returned and held her literal heart. Her eyes rolled back as her temperature remained heated. Cyr removed his hand from her breast and picked her up. Leading them to their bed.

He kissed her forehead, and gently laid her down. Cyr walked while stretching, taking a towel with him to bathe and wipe the day from his body.

Angela shivered. Her hands going to her face then covering her breasts as she curled her knees to the side. She trembled. Her heart beating rapidly and her face flushed the reddest she had ever been to date. Angela had no idea that her very _ears_ would cause such a _noise_ from her. Angela ached and gave a low moan. She remained like that for a few chimes utterly confused by her desire.

 _Is this some sort of_ ― _of_ _Fey trick?_ She wondered. _I thought mating was only a necessity to bring boys into the world with a few daughters. Nothing enjoyable. But this...this felt…_

Angela focused on how gentle Cyr was despite her flailing vulnerability and her complete inexperience. Cyr pleasured her and took nothing of himself. She carefully cupped her breasts thinking the very air made them oversensitive and promptly bit her lip. She felt so achy and strange and it seemed nothing would calm her down. _Nothing except Cyr_. She thought unnerved.

Angela wondered if she needed to do any favors for him. After all, many Norban wives complained how they had to 'perform for their husbands' when their husbands wanted to be 'especially pleased.'

Angela had no idea what those 'favors' entailed and her mother promptly told her not to listen to anyone regarding it. At the time, Angela dutifully did just that and now she began to wonder if she _ought_ to have pushed for the knowledge. If only to not feel so...inept to her. She gulped. _I suppose Cyr is my betrothed?_ Angela still did not fully grasp the purpose of a _shei'tani_ and what her duties were.

Cyr bathed and grinned, pleased at how his day ended. Wiping himself off and putting on his pyjamas the young Fey frowned at the doubt he was feeling emanating from Angela.

He walked toward Angela and noticed her innocent confusion. He noted where her hands were and decided not to say anything or look too interested. He slowly got into bed and approached Angela.

" _Ajiana_?" Cyr asked concerned. "Talk to me, _teska_. Did I not please you?"

Angela actually raised herself up at that. She saw how he did not approach her anymore. "Yes! I just...were you supposed to please me?" Angela blurted. Her hand hesitantly reached across the bed for his, and she bit her lip uncertainly. Her face on fire. Her other hand curled protectively around her throat.

Cyr relaxed and smiled at her. He slowly pulled Angela into his arms. " _Aiyah, ajiana_." Cyr said gently, kissing her brow. "A _shei'tan_ makes certain his _shei'tani_ is well and happy." He said slowly, his amber eyes solemnly regarding her. " _Kem'Angela_ is beautiful and desirable." He noted how she blushed to her roots and she looked away from him. He frowned.

"Why do you not think you're beautiful?" Cyr asked. _Or desirable? Which does she fear worse?_

"Because I look too much like my real father…" Angela muttered, tensing. "Mama said he was a very handsome man and Papa said it's better for girls to be ugly so they're not easy targets."

Cyr counted to 10 before he said anything. He knew _precisely_ what her 'Papa' was telling her. She was not his daughter and clearly the stupid _krekk_ belittled _his_ Angela. He figured the _krekk_ was insecure about his own appearance among other things he did not like about her backwards Norban culture.

"Do you know who your real father is?" Cyr asked quietly. Angela practically shrunk into herself.

 _OK_ , Cyr thought grimacing. _Definitely a sore topic. I'm surprised she told me at all_.

He pressed his lips against her forehead. "I don't care what anyone says, Angela. You're the most beautiful woman to me."

Angela gulped. It was the first time someone actually referred to her as a woman and not some slip of a girl or Feral Spinster or some other derogatory term. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she snuggled closer to Cyr.

" _Beylah vo_ for being so brave today." Cyr continued. "I noticed every step when you rushed into helping me," he chuckled lightly. "Scared me half to death when I thought you were injured." He shook himself and snuggled her back. "Or just now...being honest with... _Shei'tani_ , there's not a moment that goes by when all I want to do is hold you or touch you or kiss you, Angela." He admitted. Angela looked up at him. His Fey skin glowing faintly in their nightfallen room. His eyes tenderly and knowingly looking at her beneath his long, straight lashes.

"I meant what I said, Angela." Cyr said soberly. "You're in control of how far, how fast, how often we can be intimate. It's just the two of us who can decide that." He chastely kissed her forehead and sighed as he fell asleep from his fatiguing day.

Angela remained awake turning over what he said in her head. And remembering everything they had done.

She would try to ignore her upbringing...because she wanted to be with Cyr. She wanted to be sure of him, though. They were not wed in a church and he tempted her. What if she gave in and he left? She has no claims to him, otherwise.

For now, Angela lifted herself and pulled Cyr against her silken bosom and held him close. Sighing in relief when he was against her before closing her eyes.


	10. X: Reactions Part II

**Disclaimer** : I do not own _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own OC, non-canon and fictional magic.

 _A/N_ : Reviews welcome. They are great for speedy updates :-). I know I focused almost exclusively on their budding relationship. I hope to infuse more action, etc.

* * *

Angela stared down at Cyr's dirty blond hair, awakening a little before dawn. _He's so peaceful._ She thought mildly as she compared all of last night and his Rage. She wondered about her feelings regarding the Fey warrior.

 _But no one has told me exactly what a shei'tanista bonding actually is._ The young woman rolled her eyes in askance. _I guess I'll just have to be direct with him._

Cyr mumbled in his sleep something Angela did not understand. _I need to learn Feyan_. She thought annoyed. _I don't like being the dark about everything._ She frowned.

She lightly stroked Cyr's hair, accidentally awakening him.

" _Shei'tani?_ " The Fey warrior murmured as his glowing amber eyes looked at her blearily.

Angela smiled at him and tried to extricate herself from his hold. "Sleep, Cyr." she said softly. Cyr frowned and his arms tightened.

"Where are you going?" He asked, fully awake. Angela blushed. "Oh, I was just going to, er, find something to drink?" Angela felt torn. She wanted some space but did not want to leave Cyr.

Cyr slowly rose above her. "Last night was beautiful, _shei'tani_." He said slowly, searching her piercing grey eyes. "What is it that I'm sensing from you?" _She almost seems ashamed...and disoriented...is it because I went too fast? Or shocked her?_ His guilt started to eat at him despite knowing they did nothing wrong in the sight of the gods and his people.

 _Not that it's anyone's business except ours_. He thought decisively.

Angela gulped. _Oh to hell with it._ She thought irritably.

"I just don't understand your culture." She said simply. "I feel very lost here...because in Norban I would've been shamed or stoned or beaten for acting the way I did with you; but when you touch me I feel…" Angela sighed, looking away from him. "I feel safe, warm and...er…" Scowling, she sighed again and looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "You seem like you're interested in me, yes?"

" _Aiyah_." Cyr answered promptly, his expression serious and calculating. "Very much so." _Surely, she's not so na_ _ï_ _ve as all that? Or did she sense nothing from me?_

He lightly kissed her forehead making Angela smile shyly.

"That's just it," Angela pointed out, hating herself for what she was about to admit and ask. "I know I'm not going back to Norban―nor do I want to," Angela said quickly, her hands gripping his shoulders and fisting his hair. "But you told me something about daughters being OK and wanted and then that fight made _no sense_ to me." She said staring up at him. "I just...what _exactly_ is a bond?" She asked frustratedly. "All I know is everyone here holds it in high esteem and that I'm supposed to trust you." Angela bit her lip. "You're making everything too easy. Where's the catch?"

"The catch?" Cyr asked, taken aback. "What does that mean?" His mind wildly raced. _Jaffing hell._ The Fey thought horrified. _Beaten? Stoned? Shamed in something pure and natural and good?_

"What do I have to do in return?" Angela asked slowly. "Do I have to perform...favors? Or something? I just don't want to get hit." Angela fidgeted seeing Cyr's face contort angrily.

He was at a loss to answer her. Cyr removed her hands from his hair and shoulders. He swiftly rose with every line in his body stiff and furious as he went toward their bathing chamber.

" _Nothing_." Cyr practically spat at her. "I require _nothing_ of _that sort_." He shook and glared at her before entering. "Let's get _that_ straight. I am _nothing_ like those _rultsharts_ you lived with. You're _never_ going to be struck by me. If someone _dares_ lay a hand, stone or whatever that'll be the last thing they _ever_ do." He took a deep breath. "Children are eternally sacred. Even a _dahl'reisen_ warrior would die for a child." Angela's gaped at him. She had heard of the legendary, dishonored dahl'reisen warriors. "Daughters in particular are a rarity to the Fey." Cyr finally said.

Furiously, the Fey warrior left her to her thoughts as he shut the door behind him.

Angela sighed and buried her face in her knees.

 _Ruin everything you touch, why don't ya Angie?_ She echoed her Papa's words. _Just had to ask him too many questions instead of waiting, listening and trusting him._

* * *

Meanwhile, a furious Norban priest returned to his hometown and glared at his _umagi_.

"You're telling me Angela Michaelson is gone? Dead just like her family?" He demanded.

"Her clothes were ripped apart by the river, sir." The young _umagi_ said. "She's been gone for nearly a week."

Scowling, the Norban priest stared at his hands. _I should've remained in Norban while she was here._ He thought aggravated. _She may be an illegitimate, illiterate fool but she knew her father's trade better than his own son._

"Search her former house for any clues," he commanded. "Including her father's smithy."

"Yes sir," the _umagi_ said promptly as he gathered seven others to perform the task.

 _I'll have to find you and use you for that battle plan_. The Norban priest fingered his gold rings. _Hopefully, there's some leverage here._

He did not want the High Mage to be _disappointed_ in him.

* * *

Rain Tairen Soul chewed his breakfast thoughtfully. _How to speak to Angela without startling her._ He had managed to ask unsuspiciously about Angela to Marissya who waxed poetic regarding her new charge. _She's still ignoring Dax_. He thought sympathetically toward his fellow _shei'tan_. _I don't want Ellysetta to know either._ He purposefully told Bel to distract his _shei'tani_ while he would look for Angela later in the day. Both agreed that Angela is a possible threat to the Fey and they needed to ascertain a few things regarding the foreign _shei'tani_.

A Fey warrior entered and bowed before Rain, Ellysetta, Marissya and Dax.

"A Brother Able* requests a meeting along with his messenger, _kem'feyreisen_ and _kem'feyreisa_."

Marissya shot up from her seat. "Oh _bellah sallan_." She said breathlessly. "Angela told me about him." She quickly explained to her friends and _shei'tan_. "I must go to Angela and tell her." Marissya donned her scarlet cowl and briskly walked toward their suite.

Dax shook his head. "Angela, Angela, Angela." he said.

Ellysetta agreed. "We should hear him out, Rain." She said to her _shei'tan_.

"We'll see them in the Throne Room." Rain ordered. The Fey warrior bowed and Rain glanced at Bel gave him an imperceptible nod behind Ellysetta's back.

Angela donned her navy dress and sighed when she looked at her barrette Cyr made her. _Should I wear it?_ She wondered as she glanced at the ominous door. The decision was made for her after hearing a knock and her name.

She quickly placed the sea-inspired barrette down at the vanity and opened the door revealing Lady Marissya.

Marissya frowned sensing turmoil between the young matepair. _Not now_. She thought. _You can't interfere with a matebond, Marissya._

" _Ajiana_ ," She said soothingly, causing a faint smile from Angela. "Brother Able is here."

Angela beamed. "I mustn't keep him waiting," she said immediately. Angela hesitated then closed the door behind her. _He's not done anyway_. She thought. _He probably still needs his space._

Angela walked briskly to match Lady Marissya's longer strides. The two women exchanged pleasant conversation. Angela lowered her voice and stared at the opulence of the Fey Throne Room.

"Angie?!" Brother Able shouted.

Angela started and smiled shyly at her former neighbor. _I hate the name_.

"Hello Brother Able," Angela said softly. She felt a flicker of awareness from Cyr and decided to ignore it. _If he's going to be mad then fine._

"I see you two know each other," the Feyreisen commented dryly.

"Yes sir," Angela said quickly, curtseying to him. "Brother Able was friends with my brother before he joined the clergy."

The Feyreisen frowned slightly and looked at Marissya, noticing Cyr's absence.

« _I think they quarrelled._ » Marissya Spirited. « _Happens to the best of us._ »

Rain could not help but agree more.

"It was Angie who enabled me to get here," Brother Able announced, embarrassing the young woman whom he could not take his eyes from.

"Indeed?" Rain queried.

"I have the box, Angie." Abel said sincerely as he withdrew a medium-sized box with a fearsome black tairen drawn on it from his bag.

Angela gasped. "The cat-dragon got scratched!" she said upset, her hand reaching toward it.

"Ah, no Angie." Abel said embarrassed for her. "This is a tairen."

Angela tilted her head in confusion.

Rain smiled at Angela. "It would look like a cat-dragon to anyone else," he said smoothly. Angela gulped, embarrassed but unsure as to why.

 _Why am I even here?_ She thought. _This is for highborn folks._

"What's in it?" Bel prompted.

Brother Able blinked. "We don't know," he said slowly. "I left with Angie's help before Norban was ransacked by the Mage Marked priests."

Angela frowned as the whole room stiffened. _What's Mage Marked?_ She wondered. She decided she _would not_ ask Cyr anymore questions since all her inquisitiveness did was get her in trouble.

Cyr heard Lady Marrisya and Angela speak and then leave their suite as he quickly dressed. He noted Angela left her courtship gift on the vanity. He vaguely wondered if she had found his other courtship gift to her liking hidden in her sleeve.

 _I shouldn't've lost my temper like that._ He thought chagrined. _Lady Marissya and Master Baristani did warn me Angela would have a tough go at it._

But he was insulted beyond measure at Angela's implications and naïve questions.

 _Not naïve._ He chided. _She's ignorant through no fault of her own and her upbringing made her afraid._ Cyr could not understand it because his own childhood had been filled with love, hope, laughter and protection.

Cyr is a perfectionist, highly educated and a reserved man by nature. It was both a strength and a fault. His eyes narrowed seeing the familiarity between Angela and this 'Brother Able,' he especially did not like Angela being called Angie and could tell Angela did not like the nickname either. Furthermore, he could sense lust and interest from the clergyman while Angela seemed oblivious to his advances.

 _His life is spared for that reason alone._ The jealous Fey thought contemptuously.

The Fey stayed a little off to the side next to another guard as he watched between his _shei'tani_ and Brother Abel.

Angela wisely remained silent as a firestorm of questions from the Fey reacted toward her former neighbor.

"What does Angela have to do in all this?" Rain asked raising his voice above their questions.

Everyone turned to Angela, causing her to blush.

"I snuck Brother Able out through some of the old passages to get help to the Fey per Mama's orders." She said quickly.

Brother Able nodded. "Yes, Felicity," he glanced at Angela apologetically. "was a staunch Fey supporter and knew enough to weld the contents of that box to safety at Lord Teleos' holding. Felicity said we couldn't open the box. Only the Feyreisen."

Angela frowned a little, and waited. _I don't recall those orders._

Rain rose from his throne next to Ellysetta as several Fey warriors placed shields around the women and prepared themselves.

To Angela's surprise Cyr appeared before. He did not look at her directly but concentrated. Angela looked away.

The Feyreisen opened it carefully with Air and Spirit weaves.

Inside the wooden tairen box was a letter, several designs and a pair of tairen kitling wings.

Angela gasped as hers was lost in the anguished crowd. For some reason her shoulder blades twitched painfully.

Sniffing, Angela turned away. Cyr allowed the shield to lead Angela to the doorway. And backed away while Bel called for reinforcements to follow his _shei'tani_ at a distance.

Rain opened the letter and stared at the unfamiliar script in horror.

 _My Lord Feyreisen,_

 _Please accept these sel'dor plans with all sincerity. My one true love was a Fey warrior and the true father of our daughter. I do not know what became of Lord Tajik vel Sibboreh*._

 _Underneath Norban are tunnel system leading to the Mages. They're using several means to get Fey. I don't know for what purpose._

 _I tried to protect my little girl the best way I could. I know I should have brought her to the Fading Lands; but I was scared. I fought for my little girl and I know she'll never forgive me for the monstrosity that I and another had to do to seal her magic. I know as she gets older and more beautiful she becomes forfeit._

 _I honestly wish she had never been born so she would not be so miserable where we are. I'm selfish but I've suffered enough to guard and guide the Fey. I just wanted to be happy. I know I did a cruel and wicked thing to a baby. May the gods forgive me._

 _Angela has a gift for metals. Particularly sel'dor and only she can fully activate the weapon...but it comes at a price._

 _Felicity Erica Michaelson._

Rain looked around for Angela and Cyr.

"Merciful gods," he whispered, and held Ellysetta's hand. "Angela is your cousin and daughter to Tajik."

Angela shivered as she all but raced down the corridor and nearly ran into someone.

"Oh! I'm―," Angela started to say until she saw the messenger. She backed up but not soon enough for the man to grab her plaited hair and spin her around.

"Cyr!" Angela cried as the blade went to her throat.

Her _shei'tan_ froze and the Rage was visible for all to see.

« _Fey! Ti'Angela! She's been attacked and I can't get a clear shot!_ »

* * *

 _References_ _:_

 _Brother Able_ :is actually spelled like 'able to do something,' and not Abel the masculine biblical name.

 _Angela's Fey parentage_ : So I am totally going AU and creative license regarding Tajik fathering Angela. Canon states that only truemated pairs can have daughter or sons while e'tanista bonds can father sons only.


	11. Ch XI: Fury and Might

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own Angela, non-canon and fictional magic.

 _A/N_ : Keep up the reviews :-) I write for us. Also, keep me posted in any confusion regarding story flow, GSP, etc. Definitely a _lot_ happening to Angela. I promise this story will end happily and justice will be served. Angela will never be sexually abused. Here is an extra long chapter for the wait :-).

* * *

 **Ch. XI** : Fury and Might

Cyr did not dare move closer to his _shei'tani_.

 _Krekk,_ he thought frantically. _Think Fey._ Only centuries of discipline allowed him to tuck his emotions inward as he focused his energies toward removing Angela from this man. He chose not to wield red _fey'cha_ for fear of accidentally hitting Angela.

The messenger smiled cruelly against Angela's temple.

"Thought you could hide from me forever, _petchka_?" He sneered, pulling Angela's head painfully with his hand knotted around her plait.

Angela could not take her eyes of Cyr's.

For some reason, she could sense Cyr's emotions but not his thoughts.

« _Fey,_ » Bel commanded. « _Weave invisibility. Do not let him know we're here._ »

Angela could vaguely sense a presence around her in a loose circle. _What's going on?_ She wondered, before quickly focusing on her own predicament. _I have to get away. I'll die by my own hand if that's what it takes to be free of this monster._

Her eyes brimmed with tears and she cursed as the man swiped his tongue against her cheek, revolting her.

"Where are my platinum tears, _petchka_?" He growled, making Angela stiffen. "I want that money and you're going to give it to me one way or another." He threatened. "So I suggest you cry willingly or I'll take you the way I want to. After all, I'm sure your...fellow over there has taught you a few things, hmm you little slut?"

Angela's eyes flashed platinum. A deep force within her snarled to get free.

She was terrified of the man. Her fury stemmed from her helplessness and her disgust in how he would say such things regarding Cyr.

She felt a poking quill in her sleeve. She forced her platinum tears to fall from her eyes creating a platinum ball; which the man quickly caught.

His grip loosened enough and Angela struck his daggered hand with the metallic nib slamming it with all her strength through his hand.

The messenger screamed and Angela felt herself be pulled back by a pair of hands as the messenger lunged at her.

Cyr quickly shoved Angela behind him toward her _lu'tans_ and lunged at the messenger slamming a fist into his face and throwing his _fey'cha_ at his other hand. He pinned his enemy against the stone wall. His eyes sparking white as he removed Air from the messenger's lungs.

"Tell me why I should let you live, _krekk_." He demanded icily.

"You can't touch me like this," the messenger managed to choke out. "I'm a Celierian citizen and a Norban...same as her…"

"Actually," Marissya coldly corrected from behind. "Angela is a _Fey_ citizen. She is a _shei'tani_ to one of our esteemed warriors whom you've insulted at your greatest peril."

The messenger blanched. Marissya quickly healed Angela's injuries as Ravel wove Fire to sustain her. Angela stared at Marissya. _I'm a Fey citizen, now?_ She wondered dazedly.

"Permit me, _teska_." She continued to Cyr. "It is my duty as Celieria's truthspeaker to question this man and why he hunts and haunts _kem'nessa_."

Cyr slowly retreated as Marissya's _lu'tans_ surrounded the man and he immediately went to his _shei'tani_.

Angela warily watched everyone. It shocked her that so many Fey would protect her. No one blamed her for anything and were very respectful toward her.

Cyr sheathed his remaining _fey'cha_ and held out his hands to her. " _Shei'tani_ ," he said quietly. Angela gulped and hesitantly took his hand as he led her away from the scene.

Ellysetta scowled at her quintet. "I need to speak with Angela." she said hotly.

Kieran grimaced. " _Mela_ says she needs to be with Cyr...she's having...a difficult time." his eyes returned to their more focused state as he regarded his Feyreisa apologetically.

Ellysetta sighed and buried her face in hands. "I have a cousin." she murmured. "How is it she had to be in _Norban_ of all places?" She asked guilty. Her red hair spiraling about her.

Her quintet exchanged worried looks while they awaited their Feyreisen's orders.

Cyr led Angela to their suite and shut and secured their rooms. He took a deep breath and turned toward a wary Angela.

" _Siesk'ta._ " Cyr began.

Angela stared at him uncomprehendingly before bursting into tears.

Grimacing Cyr slowly approached her murmuring soothing words in Feyan as Angela furiously rubbed the side of her face where she had been licked.

" _Setah, ajiana_." Cyr said becoming distressed as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wet it with _faerilas_.

He placed it against her cheek and wiped the man's spittle from her.

Cyr carefully took Angela's hands, while ignoring her platinum-and- _sel'dor_ tears, he kissed them gently.

Surprised and worried as her tears clogged her throat she watched Cyr. Her _shei'tan_ kissed her hands until he reached her wrists.

" _Teska, shei'tani._ Talk to me." Cyr said softening his voice. "Who is that man? I need to know so I have all the evidence to try him."

"Y-you'd believe me?" Angela whispered, sniffling.

" _Aiyah_ ," Cyr answered automatically.

Angela hiccupped. "His name is Ivan." She answered thickly. "Ivan Dew, my father owed him money, and," Angela clamped her eyes shut. "And since everyone's dead it falls on me to repay him or become his... _whore_." She sniffed, hunching her shoulders. "I've always had platinum tears but they never show up consistently." Angela continued upset. "I suspect it's because I try not to get too angry or any fiercer emotion. That's when they appear. But I've been unable to contain them, really, since Kyle died and I'm sure he caught wind that I was in the forest." She took a deep breath. "My brother always tried to protect me and Mama said we could always use the tears if money was really tight." Angela tensed. "But one day Papa and Mama got into a nasty argument and Papa reminded Mama that I wasn't _his_ daughter." She said in a low voice. "Papa swore to Mama he'd never sell me; but I'm almost 25." Angela lamented finally looking at Cyr, and she tried to remove her hands from his grasp but he held on. "Any unmarried Norban woman―unless betrothed―becomes _property_ ," Angela hissed the word. "Of those _priests_."

Angela's dark presence shook and she shuddered, praying Cyr did not feel it.

Cyr stroked Angela's shoulder. "That's horrific, _ajiana_ ," The Fey acknowledged. "What are these priests, exactly?"

"They said I'm a monster and a witch and need be _purified_." Angela cried, finally disclosing her secret. "I won't be sold or branded or touched like that again." Angela declared wretchedly. "I'll kill myself before that happens."

Cyr immediately pulled Angela in his arms and sat on the bed with her legs over his lap. " _Nei_ ," he said disconcerted. "Do _not_ , _shei'tani_. You're safe now." Cyr swore, tilting her chin and staring into her beautiful grey eyes. "What do you mean touched again?"

Angela blinked back platinum tears at Cyr's fierce, protective expression. She gulped and her heart skipped a beat at his defense. _No one's ever looked at me that way before_.

"They tried to exercise me." She said meekly. "With needles and I don't know what happened, only that Kyle carried me away with Mama at his heels and she nursed me back to health. Even Papa was nicer to me after that." She leaned hesitantly into Cyr's hand. "Kyle said if push came to shove and I was still unmarried then he would make _sure_ Brother Able married me because he was Kyle's best friend." Angela grimaced. "It sounds silly now; but at the time it seemed like my prayers had been answered. But then I had to sneak away in the tunnel system."

Cyr frowned as he caressed Angela's cheek. "Did you want to marry him?" He could not help asking. _If yes then I don't know what I'll do...I cannot fight a pledged heart. Shei'tanista or no._

Angela scoffed. "No!" She denied vehemently. "He always was there as a _friend_ to Kyle and I respect him for it; but he only ever said yes under the condition that it was a last resort."

Appeased, Cyr carefully picked her up and led her to the bathing chamber. He used his magic and turned the hot water taps. He pulled a chair from the bedroom and gently deposited her as he unwove her plaited hair, massaging her bruised scalp. Angela turned to face him when he moved away.

Cyr smiled sadly at her. "I need to touch you where he hurt you." He lightly caressed her cheek and Angela regarded him with wide eyes.

"You're not angry with me?" She meekly asked.

Startled, Cyr stopped his gentle ministrations. " _Nei_ ," he answered slowly. "Why would I be?" His worried amber eyes searching her piercing grey ones as he took her slender form in wondering if she is bruised where he is not allowed to see.

"Because I broke the quill." Angela whispered. "I'd never held one before." She quickly added. "It's so pretty and I liked it in my sleeve...because I...I know I'm not supposed to ask so many questions―and I won't I _swear_ ," Angela promised, unintentionally making Cyr's guilt worse. "I just, I'm sorry."

"Angela," Cyr said appalled and guilty. " _Nei, nei._ " He wanted to rectify the this awful situation and cursed himself for contributing to her anxiety and unfortunate worldview. "I had meant that to be a courtship to practice writing and reading today. It's easily fixed, Angela." Cyr said slowly holding Angela's cheeks between his hands.

"You're priceless." Cyr said evenly. "No amount of gold, jewels, clothes or _any_ material is more beautiful or precious than you." Angela clearly wanted to believe him.

"Do you want to know why?" He pressed. Angela gulped and she was taut with fear and hope. "Because _life_ is precious, priceless and beautiful." He explained. "I can't imagine a world without _you_ , Angela." Cyr said guiltily. "I know I was wrong today and wanted to apologize to you and I was scared," he hated to admit it. "out of my scorching mind when you were held hostage." Cyr pulled her close and turned the tap off.

He kissed her cheek and temple where Ivan Dew had licked her.

Angela willingly lowered her defenses and sought Cyr. She felt his unwavering sincerity. "Even if I'm a bastard?" She whispered, daring to believe.

Cyr pulled back enough to look her in the eye. "You're kem'Angela." Cyr informed her steadily. "Your birth parents matter not to me when _kem'mela_ and _kem'gepa_ claim you along with Lady Marissya."

Angela lunged at Cyr and wept against his neck. Her emotions span the gamut of raw, disbelieving, hopeful and on the road to recovery as Cyr crooned and stroked her hair.

Cyr tenderly kissed Angela's tears away and lightly touched her mind sending her reassuring waves.

He gently extracted himself, alarming Angela.

" _Las ajiana_ ," Cyr told her kindly. He handed her a towel. "I'll be waiting for you." He rose and left her to bathe, shutting the door behind him.

Cyr's tender expression melted becoming deadly serious.

Angela stood there blinking stupidly after her _shei'tan_ before the hot bath beckoned her. Undressing and folding her clothes beside her towel she stepped into the bath.

"Thank you," she whispered to the ceiling.

* * *

Cyr paced before Spiriting Angela's _lu'tans_ regarding Angela's attacker.

« _Lady Marissya would like to speak to you both privately at your earliest convenience._ » Sian said. « _How is she?_ »

« _Distraught but settling_.» Cyr replied frankly.

Angela bolted from her sitting position in her hot bath. Her skin pinking as she gasped. Her mind reaching Cyr's needing his reassurance.

Surprised, Cyr ended his Spirited conversation and knocked on Angela's door.

" _Shei'tani?_ " Cyr called through the door.

He heard a splash and Angela appeared on the other side of the door shielding her body from view, dripping over the stone-and-marble floors.

"I need a lot of things―but I need to warn the Feyreisen and the Feyreisa about the Smudges," Angela said faintly. She frowned at her sudden weakness, alarming Cyr through their connection and in her voice. She rubbed her pounding head. Her vision dizzying as Cyr swore. He opened the door and picked Angela up summoning Angela's towel and her dress as he rushed toward the fireplace and dried her with Air weaves before the fire warming his natural cold magic as he studiously avoided looking at her torso while drying her body.

It happened so fast Angela barely knew what happened as Cyr slipped her dress over her head, sat her down and pressed _faerilas_ at her lips while depositing her at the table and chairs. Obediently, Angela drank as Cyr cut fruit and placed them in a bowl for her. She ate in silence as Cyr worriedly muttered under his breath in Feyan.

Scowling, Cyr straightened. "Wait here," he said imperiously while Spiriting Lady Marissya. He opened the door, sealed it and all but ran to the kitchens.

 _How could I have been so careless?! She's starving. Krekk!_

Furious and anxious, Cyr grabbed various hot food and stuffed it in their de facto picnic basket. He nearly ran into Lady Marissya.

Cyr lowered his seal and the Fey entered. " _Kem'nessa_ ," Lady Marissya said relieved. Her arms wrapping around the surprised young woman as she simultaneously spun golden weaves.

Angela sighed contentedly as Cyr set her food before her. She started to protest when Marissya caught her eye.

« _Nei, ajiana._ » The shei'dahlin cautioned. « _Your shei'tan needs this. You've had a trying day and must rest._ »

"But I can't," Angela protested aloud. "I have to warn the Feyreisen and the Feyreisa about the Smudges."

"Smudges?" The Fey exchanged bewildered looks.

"Yes," Angela said stubbornly. "several Norbans have Smudges over their hearts. The most I've sensed is six."

The Fey's faces became grave. "Mage Marks." They said darkly.

Angela's expression was almost comical as she tossed her dark red curls over her shoulder. "My goodness." She commented. "In Norban, they said only the Fey had such," she looked away. "sorcery. But all the priests and some of the king's men have them, too."

Marissya took Angela's hand, forcing Angela to look at her. "Y―you can see Mage Marks without Azrahn?"

The young woman frowned at her. "I don't know what that means," she said apologetically feeling inferior atop everything else. "I just sense things in proximity to _sel'dor_."

Cyr had a tick in his jaw.

" _Kem'falla_ ," Cyr said without taking his eyes from Angela. "What is your suggestion for Angela's health?" he asked Marissya. "I'd rather we not delay informing the Feyreisen or the Feyreisa."

As a _shei'tan_ his duty is to his _shei'tani_...as a warrior his duty is to the royal family.

He was torn. _Perhaps I should resign?_ He thought soberly. _It seems kem'Angela isn't safe here, either._

Angela scowled at Cyr. « _What's running through that brain of yours?_ » She demanded irely. « _You're unnaturally serious and I can only guess it has nothing to do what what I just said._ »

Marissya felt the stinging emotions between the matepair. "I want Angela to remain where she is," she answered diplomatically. "but the Feyreisa wishes to speak to Angela anyway and I suggest in one bell we reconvene?"

Cyr nodded and opened the door for Marissya to play messenger.

As soon as the door closed Angela rushed toward Cyr. "Cyr―," she began as her _shei'tan_ pulled her to him.

"Merciful gods," he swore between gnashed teeth. "You're not safe here in the palace of all places! And," Cyr hesitated making Angela force Cyr to look down at her.

"What are you talking about?" Angela repeated. "I'm _very_ safe when I'm with you." She said staunchly, silencing Cyr. "You're jumping to conclusions." Angela said hotly. "I should've been paying attention to my surroundings instead of gadding about with Brother Able." She sighed, seeing Cyr's eyes flicker with dozens of emotions. "Brother Able joined the clergy because he's _not_ a fighter." Cyr's eyebrows rose slightly at Angela's derisive tone. "He'd've had a guide and someone handy with a blade." Her shoulders sagged. "I completely _forgot_ my blades and I _know_ better, Cyr." She continued. "Please...let's just tell them what we need to and then can we have a nice pot of keflee and just...be? Together?" Angela placated.

Cyr stared at her. " _Baska_." Cyr muttered. "But _I_ protect you and I could've―,"

Angela placed a finger at his lips. "You came for me." Angela interrupted steadily. "I haven't been a good _shei'tani_ ," she continued softly. "But I think we need to table _this_ conversation and eat because I know the Feyreisen and the Feyreisa _will_ come shortly."

Cyr reluctantly agreed and found himself eating a mild dinner by Fey standards with his _shei'tani_.

 _She's right._ He thought as they ate in silence and just finished putting away their meal and straightening the room when the door knocked.

Angela strode to the door before Cyr did giving him a look which clearly indicated he not argue with her.

"Hello My Lord Feyreisen, My Lady Feyreisa." She said in her politest tone with a warmer look in Lady Marissya's direction.

"Angela, Cyr," Rain spoke for Ellysetta who looked as unsettled and guilty as she felt upon learning her long-lost cousin is the stranger before her.

Lady Marissya availed pertinent facts concerning Angela's upbringing and mistreatment to the royal couple after truthspeaking the messenger, Ivan Dew.

Cyr arranged for several chairs for their hosts and provided _faerilas_ and indicated for everyone to sit. _There's something more_. He thought shrewdly.

"Angela," Marissya began, spearing the royal couple a look as Angela turned to her voice trustingly, causing Cyr to relax. "There are a few points we need to discuss." Marissya began, knowing Angela respected candidness.

"Fire away," Angela answered. Her attention fixed on the _shei'dahlin_.

"I had to truthspeak Ivan Dew under _shei'dahlin_ touch." Angela flinched. She earnestly believed the Norban talk concerning the subject are not an exaggeration.

"He admitted you were always his main target for your platinum-and- _sel'dor_ tears and that your...biological father owed him money." Angela stiffened, withdrawing slightly into Cyr.

Angela nodded once as her mind raced and Cyr's stony expression remained.

"You actually don't owe him anything," Rain interjected. "since your tears already paid his debt several times over."

Some of the tension eased from Angela's shoulders. _I knew it_.

"Then is he…?" Angela trailed off.

"That's the problem," Ellysetta blurted, her verdant eyes wide and her expression equal parts guilty and sincere. "the letter inside the box told us your real father is the Fire Master of Feyan Arms* Lord Tajik vel Sibboreh―who is also my uncle."

To Angela's credit she did not bat an eye. "Oh?" Angela asked. "So you're telling me Ivan Dew is what exactly?"

"They cannot let him go nor can I properly avenge you because he's one of King Dorian's messengers and carries a protection seal by his hand." Cyr surmised with a growl. "I'll not have Angela near him." He declared coldly.

Angela tilted her head in confusion. She did not protest Cyr's protection but she is concerned Ivan Dew will find a way to get to her again. _I don't fancy another knife to my throat._

"You're a Fey subject because you're a _shei'tani_ and your living parent is Fey." Marissya added. Angela took a swig from her _faerilas._ "Who knows?" She questioned.

"Us and the Feyreisa's quintets." Marissya answered surprised.

The young woman smiled relieved. "Then let's keep it that way." She declared and held a hand to stop the ensuing argument. "You are the Feyreisa," Angela told her new cousin. " _Your_ safety is of the utmost importance. _I'll_ only jeopardize that as a potential hostage." She said flatly. "Y'all cain't keep ano'her king's messenger indefinitely―not with all the political issues surrounding y'all's kingdoms." Her Norban accent thickening. "You should just wipe his mind and let him go and none the wiser." Angela straightened. "Also, don't treat me anythang special like so as not to attract undo attention." _I have enough as it is thank you very much. And I just can't deal with having the Feyreisa as my relative. I ain't special and it's time everyone learned that here. Where were y'all when I was growing up?_ Angela always wanted to be special to her family; but vying for attention and being a 'good Norban girl,' did nothing for her. _Well,_ she thought as her eyes flicked to Cyr. _maybe not nothing._

"What about Tajik?" Rain quietly asked.

Angela shrugged. _The meaning's still the same._

"What did the letter say?" Cyr prompted as Marissya passed it to him. Angela eyed Cyr carefully. _I've never seen...such coldness before._ She wondered worriedly.

Cyr read the damning contents regarding Angela's mother. If anything, _that_ hurt Angel worse knowing her mother wished she had never been born. _My whole life's just one cosmic joke and a lie_.

"I do have a gift for metal," Angela said instead, her shoulders sagging. She gripped her goblet to focus. "I was never allowed to practice blacksmithing but Kyle taught me so I could fix his mistakes while he hunted for the family." Angela gulped. Cyr put his arm around her shoulder and Marissya reached for Angela's other hand, offering silent comfort as her true blue eyes brimmed with tears.

"I sense _sel'dor_ and metal in the same way and I sew it together like a dress," Angela said trying to explain as her mouth twisted. "Unfortunately, all my workings make the metal...too strong."

Rain perked up interested while the remaining Fey looked confused.

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?" Ellysetta asked for everyone.

Angela bitterly laughed. "Not to Pa―Vandar...I almost ruined him because my designs are...too elaborate and not...very many could lift my blades." She said grimly. "Once the bear attacks came more frequently then I was useful and my blades whomever wielded them...if they could lift it were saved from the bears thanks to my…'witch powers.'" Angela's head pounded.

"What do the plans say?" Angela asked, needing to change the subject as her memories bombarded her.

Marissya handed them the notes and Ellysetta frowned. « _Why doesn't she read them herself?_ »

« _Marissya said Angela is illiterate._ » Rain Spirited. « _Cyr planned on starting today._ »

Ellysetta wisely remained silent. _I could've been her._ She thought humbly.

Angela snorted at the plans. "These won't work without my blood and the contraption." Angela said dismissively. "T' be hones'," Angela said to the Fey. "It's been a long while since I blacksmithed I need a ton of materials to test―." Angela straightened. She set down her goblet and abruptly stood, nearly tripping as she banged her shoulder making her way to her borrowed trunk.

"Of course you half-wit," Angela swore as she pulled her _lu'tans'_ _fey'cha_ and returned to the table making a loose circle with the blades pointed inward. "D'you have a Spirit Master who'd let me borrow his blade?" She asked.

Rain called Bel in the room and the somber Fey handed Angela his blade, hilt first

"Thank you." She said sincerely before turning to Cyr. "May I have your blade, too?" Angela asked as Cyr promptly gave it to her.

She nicked her fingers despite Cyr's louder protest. She splashed her blood across the blades and smiled faintly.

 _Do you want to show off?_ Angela asked her dark presence.

A keening snarl emanated across the Tairen Souls' senses and the remaining Fey stared at Angela as her eyes glowed banded platinum. The blades glowed the corresponding colors to their Elemental and Spirit magic.

The blades glowed with a platinum ivy pattern before settling.

"Try using this on _sel'dor_ ," Angela said triumphant and exhausted.


	12. XII: Tajik

Disclaimer: I do not own the _Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own Angela, OC and non-canon fictional magic.

A/N: my apologies for the long wait. Reviews do speed the creative process. Enjoy! And please let me know if there are any GSP errors or story flow confusion. I want to make my storylines the best they can be.

* * *

 **Ch. XII** : Tajik

Angela swayed and Cyr quickly caught her. She smiled wanly as Marissya healed her hands.

For some reason, her dark presence fumed at Bel's Spirit _fey'cha_. Rain reached Angela's mind and she shuddered while Cyr snarled at his king.

" _Las,"_ Ellysetta commanded as both _she'dahlins_ wove peace on the males.

"Angela's tairen doesn't like Spirit in large doses." Ellysetta explained, relieved to find the source of Angela's apparent distress regarding her earlier healing touch as a Spirit Master and Tairen Soul.

"T―tairen?" Angela asked tiredly as Cyr started.

"That's what I've been sensing?" He asked simultaneously. Angela choked and gaped at him.

Cyr gave her an apologetic smile. "I chose not to say anything, _siesk'ta._ " Cyr told her. "Because I figured it was the bond and…all your experiences since we've met―particularly today."

The young woman did not know what to think.

" _Mioralas_ ," Bel said surprising everyone with a rare smile. "You're quite the miracle, _kem'falla_." He turned to his sovereigns. "Another tairen from the same family." He approved.

"We will discuss more in due time." Ellysetta said decisively. "For now Angela's health comes first."

"And we will respect your wishes, _kem'mareska_." Rain added as everyone rose to take their leave.

Marissya wove her healing strands about them. "I'll stop by later tomorrow to check on Angela and arrange food to be left outside your door."

" _Beylah vos_." Cyr said respectfully to on their behalf as Angela silently acknowledged the Fey's departure and Cyr sealed their suite.

Cyr turned and noticed Angela's worried gaze.

" _Ajiana?"_ He asked concerned.

"So to be sure I understood everything." Angela said, as she leaned back in her chair and motioned for her _shei'tan_ to join her. "I am half-Fey, a Fey citizen…and my biological father is a big shot in the Feyan armies as 'the Fire Master,' and my mother wished I'd never been born." She rolled her eyes. "And above all I'm a cat-dragon beast to boot."

Cyr had the inappropriate urge to laugh.

"A tairen is the symbol of the Fey, _shei'tani_." He said instead. Angela rubbed her temples.

"My world already crashed once and I barely survived _then_ ," Angela muttered. "How 'm I s'posed to survive this one?"

Cyr took her hand.

"You're not alone this time, Angela." Cyr said softly. His amber eyes showing worry and determination matching his words.

The young woman gulped. "I…don't want to be called Angela…Felicity Michaelson anymore…I guess I'm Angela Felicity vel Sib…Sibboreh?"

"Angela Felicity vol Sibboreh," Cyr corrected. "'vol,' is for unbonded _fellanas_ or Fey women. 'Vel,' is for unbonded males or Fey or Fey Lords and 'v'En,' is for bonded mates." Cyr paused. "Unless you're in an _e'tanista_ bond then you'd be 'vel'En,' like the Feyreisen."

She slowly nodded. "I just feel like Vandar Michaelson is more than dead to me and this Tajik…I don't know if I really want to see him." Angela ducked her head into her shoulder avoiding Cyr's knowing eyes.

She could not deal with the rejection.

Cyr lightly lifted her chin. "Whatever you decide _shei'tani,_ I'll support." He gently declared. Angela smiled at him. She raised herself slightly and nuzzled Cyr's face, 'kissing' him in her fashion.

 _It's I who don't deserve you and as soon as I can I will ask Lady Marissya on how to be a worthy shei'tani._

Cyr approached Angela slowly. His lips pressed together and Angela could not help being fixated.

Angela closed her eyes for a moment and she could feel Cyr move closer. Her eyelids felt heavy and Angela forced them open at half-mast.

Cyr's eyes glowed almost antique gold as he nuzzled her cheek.

Angela smiled. _I want to do something good for you…but what?_

Then it occurred to her.

Slowly, Angela opened her senses and Cyr grinned once she reached him.

He hungered for his mate.

Curious, Angela brushed against an ever-moving cyclone. She realized was Cyr's soul.

It had some darkness to it which Angela acknowledged but did not demean. Instead, Angela felt her tairen push and touch.

An emotional burst rushed Angela.

" _Shei'tani!"_ Cyr cried feeling and sharing a measure of hope, hunger, awe and possessiveness.

Gasping, Angela felt her own response mirror his.

In his mind's eye he could see Angela's tairen.

She is a third the size of the Feyreisen with copper-and-wine pelt. Her body is speared and shackled by _sel_ ' _dor_ piercings and weapons.

Her swirling platinum eyes reflected a savage self-protection which relented at seeing him. She tried to move toward him and winced her heavy chest wounds permeated her.

« _Do you see me?_ » Her tairen asked. Her sweet voice strained and reserved.

« _Aiyah._ » Cyr answered promptly and protectively. « _What happened to you?_ » He demanded. It dawned on him that she did not have wings.

She had stumps where great wings _should_ be.

Angela's tairen grimaced. « _Attacked by those priests and two others. I was too young to understand or protect us fully at the time._ » She tried to reach Cyr and finally laid down.

Suddenly, Cyr found himself in front of a breathless Angela.

" _Ajiana,"_ Cyr ground out as he pulled back to allow Angela to breathe.

"I―it's fine," Angela managed as she blinked in confusion, while rubbing her chest.

"What exactly happened?" She asked. Angela could not bear to be separated from Cyr's touch for long as she followed his retreat.

"You touched my soul, _kem'shei'tani_." Cyr said, his eyes glowing. "And I saw your tairen."

Angela continue to stare at him blankly.

Cyr could not take it anymore. He tilted her head and lowered his lips to hers.

Angela gasped her hands clutched his shoulders tightly.

Cyr brushed her lips and caressed them.

The sensual and sweet feelings made Angela's soul yearn. Her body ached and her mind blanked.

« _Open for me, kem'Angela._ » Cyr murmured, his lips teasing her. « _I will go slowly ajiana._ »

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she decided she would trust Cyr with her one treasure. _You've seen and touched soul._ She thought. _Give him something in return. This is your chance._

Hesitantly, Angela opened her mouth.

Cyr rejoiced.

As promised, Cyr moved very slowly across her lips, gently coaxing her to relax.

« _So sweet, kem'Angela_.» Cyr complimented. « _Like wild honeysuckle._ »

Angela's lips curled into a smile, pleased. Her emotions settled Cyr.

One hand caressed her hair as his other pulled her closer.

Angela opened her mouth farther and Cyr slowly deepened their kiss, smiling too.

She felt his pride and pleasure intermingle with male satisfaction and possession.

When he pulled from her Angela's breathlessness created a knowing gleam in his glowing, now antique, golden eyes.

Blushing, Angela reached for Cyr's lips with hers and then hesitated.

« _What is it?_ » Cyr asked, careful not to rush her.

« _You're my first kiss._ » Angela admitted, embarrassed. « _And I know I can't―._ »

« _Beylah vo._ » Cyr interrupted. « _For waiting for me._ »

Angela pulled back enough to look him in the eye.

"You bring pride to this Fey." He said sincerely. "I will not laugh, _ajiana_."

Angela shook her head. "That's not it." She whispered. At his look she quickly added, "Well not _all_ of it."

Cyr waited searching her features for some clue he thought he missed.

"I don't want to be compared." Angel finally confessed. "I can't truly compete with a _fellana_. They're graceful, controlled and I know you've…well, you're a good kisser Cyr." Angela blushed to her roots but held his gaze with a curious mix of defiance and trepidation.

Cyr supposed he could not be _too_ offended. After all, he _is_ experienced.

"I won't and have not compared you to any _fellana_ , Angela." He said steadily, before shrugging. "As for being inexperienced," He watched Angela blush and look down. "we could always practice."

She looked up and giggled at Cyr's wriggling brows. Grinning, Cyr liked seeing Angela's dimples again. She pulled Cyr closer and pressed her lips once more against his.

Delighted, the young Fey caressed her back and her thick, dark red curls.

It made Cyr recall her tairen's coloring and he dismissed his thoughts as Angela began to explore. Somewhat emboldened, she lightly bit Cyr's bottom lip. He growled.

She pulled back and gulped nervously and confused. "Was that OK, I did that?" She asked.

Amused, Cyr smirked. " _Aiyah_ …but I think you should wait to try that again…since I feel hungrier for my mate when you do."

Angela giggled. "Message received." She eyed him with curious interest.

He quirked a brow and she reached for him again. This time using her hands on either side of his face and slowly grinned. He returned it with watchful, glowing eyes.

Standing, Angela left a surprised Cyr who intuitively reached for her. Angela smiled coyly at him and sashayed around his advances.

Cyr watched with growing interest.

 _Definitely not my skittish doe today._ He mused.

Angela walked to the vanity, highly aware of Cyr's gaze watching her every move. She grabbed the brush and walked behind him.

"Go in the middle," she said, her breath catching.

Grinning, Cyr obeyed.

Angela knelt behind him and began to undo his partial pony and brush his hair from the bottom up.

Cyr closed his eyes.

Angela methodically brushed his long, straight dirty blond hair with gentle hands. Cyr practically purred from her touch.

Finishing, Angela was about to put the brush away when Cyr leaned back and turned his head to kiss her.

Surprised, she opened up as he tasted and explored her mouth.

Angela dropped the hairbrush and it rolled to floor unnoticed by the matepair.

Cyr repositioned her kneeling form in front of him while quickly Air weaving a blanket over his lap for her modesty.

He brought her hands to cup her breasts with his on top.

Gasping, Angela's mouth widened making that mewling sound he liked and he deepened their kiss.

« _One day, I will touch you like this._ » Cyr traced her lips with his tongue and Angela moaned. Her hands reflexively tightening on her chest, doubling the sensation as his words echoed in her mind.

« _I will memorize your beauty the way the gods intended._ » Cyr pulled back to focus on her throat as his hands moved to support her back and he gently tugged her head using her hair to lavish attention on her throat while bringing her closer. He effectively trapped her hands against his chest.

Angela swallowed as her eyes barely registered the canopy above them. Her small gasps and whimpers delighting him.

« _You'll say my name and claim me as yours alone._ » His Spirit voice promised huskily, conveying his hope and desire more than he realized.

"K―ke― _kem'Cyr_?" She asked innocently as her desire quickened in her pulse.

" _Kabai_ ," Cyr growled. "for now." He pulled from her as she caught her breath. Her coral lips beckoning and her starry eyes mixed with her wild, tussled curls made Cyr grown.

 _For me alone._ He thought with some satisfaction.

He bent his head forward. Angela's breath hitched in startled anticipation as Cyr's lips chastely kissed her hands; which remained cupping her breasts.

Cyr grinned at her. His expression all male and Angela could feel his brimming satisfaction. She swallowed hard. Cyr's handsome features lit up.

He slowly removed her hands from her chest as he carefully maneuvered her to lie down before standing.

The young Fey knew bright, grey eyes watched him go as he made his way to the bathing chamber.

After placing a privacy weave and wrapping a choice Air weave around his body he swore.

"Merciful gods!" he burst out laughing. "How am I going to survive this courtship with the most innocent vixen there is?"

* * *

Angela realized Cyr was not returning anytime soon and rose from their bed.

She made her way toward her trunk and rummaged until she found her rose-colored nightgown. She stared at her matching cheeks and wondered at the change in the young woman staring back at her from the vanity mirror.

Her piercing grey eyes held emotions Angela dared not examine too closely. Her wild curls were tussled and a blush deepened as she looked at her chest.

 _He wants to see me._ Angela thought giddily. _His hands…my hands…_ She gave herself a little shake as she changed behind a silk screen nearby. Angela laughed delightedly and twirled. Her nightgown spreading like a flower's petals at her legs.

The young woman did not sense her _shei'tan_ open the door until she felt joy, contentment, gratitude and hope bombard her senses.

Cyr's rare smile made her pause in her twirling as she covered the short distance to him.

The intense antique amber gold faded and his eyes were soft, his expression boyish as he gathered in his arms and lifted her into the air. Angela giggled as he twirled her around the room. She raised her arms and Cyr slowly set her feet on the ground.

Cyr marveled at her bright expression. Angela raised her hand to Cyr's cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

Cyr reopened his eyes and looked at her with shy hopefulness.

" _Kem'Cyr,"_ She whispered. Realizing for the first time, she is seeing her _shei'tan_ without his reserved armor.

His heart thudded as they stared at each other.

A small, unseen door opened between their souls.

Angela's breath caught in her throat. A song of sweetness, trust and hope echoed in her head and heart.

Cyr sniffed and pulled Angela's head against his heart. Tears trekked down his face. Angela heard his wild heartbeat against her ear so unlike his usual steadiness. She tried to move.

He would not let her.

Stilling, the young woman clutched his shoulders and felt at peace for the first time in her soul.

She intuitively waited in silence as Cyr gathered his armor and struggle to come to terms with their first bond thread. Angela's tears brimmed in her eyes. She had never felt something so beautiful in all her life. The closest she had was the birth of her younger brother.

The bond-madness abated and he knew he must release her soon.

Reluctantly, he did.

This time, Angela did not allow him to turn away or escape.

Ashamed at his tears, he raised his hand to wipe them away. Angela replaced his hand with hers and led him to their bed and tenderly began kissing his cheek.

" _Shei'tani?"_ his voice cracked, further embarrassing him.

"Shh, _shei'tan."_ She said gently. He gulped, feeling overwhelmed.

Unhurried, Angela kissed his tears away as Cyr bit his lip, sniffling.

She traced his cheeks, his eyebrow, and removed his frown before moving downward for his eyelids. She repeated her trailblazing on his other side.

Cyr gasped, feeling shaky and vulnerable as he clutched Angela's waist. Being careful not to bruise her despite his mounting fear.

The young woman lightly pushed Cyr to lie down and he hesitated following where she led as she continued her ministrations. Angela rolled onto her side and Cyr followed suit. She smiled tenderly at him, making Cyr's eyes blur.

She wrapped her arms around his head and guided him to her chest.

" _Kem'Cyr,"_ she sweetly proclaimed.

He closed his eyes as he felt her acceptance across their newly forged bond.

He snuggled into her soft pillow and closed their canopy drapes and scooted them toward the middle. He wrapped his legs around hers intent on never leaving.

For the first time, Cyr felt safe. He trembled in Angela's arms as she told him sweet nothings and repeated the few Feyan endearments she knew, reassuring the young Fey.

Cyr trembled in his sleep, concerning Angela.

She stroked his brow and slowly felt him snuggle and clutch her before Angela drifted to sleep.

Cyr awoke and took in his bearings in his mind flooded with last night's intimacies. He is pleased in Angela's willingness but he self-chastised feeling sick with embarrassment for crying.

He slowly rose from her embrace and kissed away her small frown. Cyr sent her a wave of reassurance. Angela rolled over in their bed and Cyr tucked her in.

He bathed, dressed and Spirited his parents.

« _Cyr!_ » His _mela_ exclaimed. « _It's so good to hear from you, kem'nos._ »

« _Mela, gepa._ » Cyr greeted, somewhat shakily. « _I've so much to tell you._ »

He regaled his parents of the past 24 bells concerning Angela's hostage situation, her parentage, her angst at being labeled a bastard in the Fading Lands prompting the Fey to inquire about a marriage contract.

« _Our first bond thread came to be._ » He Spirited in a hushed voice, scarcely fathoming it and daring not to say anything aloud. Tears burned his eyes, and he roughly swiped them.

« _Oh kem'nos_.» His _gepa_ congratulated warmly. « _We'll draft one and broker it with Lady Marissya and Lord Tajik._ »

Cyr is selfish and man enough to admit he wished Angela's father could have waited until _after_ their bond took place. He felt unusually insecure because he did not know the legendary hot-tempered Fey Lord.

The usual courtship gifts as a _shei'tan_ to his prospective bond-father would not hold sway in court since he is a virtual stranger to Angela.

« _Beylah vos_.» He said relieved. He did not know the proper etiquette but he would learn and do right by his _shei'tani._

He signed off and came to Angela's side, marveling at the miracle before him.

* * *

Tajik vel Sibboreh stared at his canvas tent wall blankly.

« _Are you absolutely certain?_ » He asked his bond-nephew, Feyreisen Rainer vel'En Daris.

« _Aiyah._ » Rain affirmed. « _Come quickly. We have much to discuss in person._ »

Struggling for composure, Tajik quickly agreed and summoned his second-in-command informing him of his departure in a bell's time per a formal summons from the Feyreisen and Feyreisa.

 _I have a nessa_. The flame-haired Fey's emotion threatened to burn his tent before he checked himself.

* * *

Angela turned and realized Cyr was at her side.

"What was that I heard in my head? In my heart?" She asked him warily.

Cyr kissed her brow.

"Tairen's Song," he answered gruffly. "the first thread of our bond, _kem'Angela_."

The young woman remained still, trying to gauge Cyr's mood.

Shifting into an upright position, the young woman reached for Cyr's hand.

"May we try it again?" Angela asked. "Soon?"

Cyr's eyes crinkled and swallowed as a burst of hope, happiness and humility sharper than before skittered across their bond. He kissed her hand.

« _Aiyah, kem'shei'tani._ » He Spirited thickly. « _Ver reisa ku'chae. Kem surah, shei'tani._ »

Angela smiled at him as a knock on the door startled them.

She quickly hid behind the curtains as Cyr went to investigate.

Shielding Angela from view, the young Fey accepted a small trunk and their de facto picnic basket from the Fey messenger. Resealing their defenses, Cyr approached their table with his curious _shei'tani_ in tow.

Angela stared at the trunk in surprise as Cyr opened it for her, seeing the familiar crest stamped on it.

A beautiful rose gold-and-champagne gown was neatly folded inside the trunk. Her hands reverently pulled it from its confinement and shook it out.

"Oh, it's so _beautiful!_ " The young woman gushed.

Cyr barely hid his smile.

Angela paused as the envelope fall to the ground and the young Fey warrior picked it up. Angela looked dismayed.

"What does it say?" She asked quietly.

Cyr carefully unsealed it and brought it close to Angela's line of vision.

" _To my new kem'nessa,"_ He dutifully read, staring at the familiar flowery script.

Angela frowned. "But why would Lady Marissya send us a trunk like that?"

" _Nei,_ it's _kem'mela."_ Cyr answered surprised.

"You―your mother?" Angela asked, bewildered.

" _My name is Cyriane v'En Lesk. I am Cyr's mother and I would like to make your acquaintance at the upcoming ball_ ," Cyr dutifully read.

Angela sputtered. "A―a _ball?_ " She squeaked. "But I don't know how to dance like _you_ do." She sighed dismayed. She had hoped to wear the emerald satin gown for such a grand affair to showcase her gratitude to Lady Marissya. Now she had another dress for the same ball? She nearly laughed at her idiocy. _Honestly,_ she thought in askance. _You'd've thought you went to balls all the time, you pacheeta. Don't be so ungrateful!_

In fairness, Angela was worried about many things. A ball was just another monkey wrench in her horizon.

" _Las ajiana,_ that's an easy fix _._ " He said pressing a kiss to her temple before continuing.

" _Lady Marissya has spoken highly of you and my shei'tan, Jaythen v'En Lesk, cannot wait to meet our lovely Angela._ " His _mela_ signed it with the family crest in cyan blue wax.

Angela looked down at the dress. It had a rose gold sheen in the light over the pink rose pattern. Angela knew whomever embroidered it was _no_ amateur seamstress. She turned the inside color out until she found the maker's mark.

"I've never seen this one before," she muttered with a concentrated frown. "and I know several marks―not just Celierian."

"That's my family's insignia." Cyr answered, gauging her expression.

Angela tilted her head curiously.

"I know some families have their own mark," Angela said. "but, I thought only insignias could be melded with the king's approval?"

Cyr inclined his head, and shrugged.

Angela swallowed and carefully wrapped her dress in her hands.

"Could you write to her for me?" Angela asked ashamed.

The Norban woman may come from humble beginnings but she would have been scoured alive by Felicity and beaten by Vandar to boot if she did not say a proper thank you.

" _Aiyah shei'tani_." Cyr said feeling Angela's shame as if it were his own. Blushing, Angela grabbed her navy dress and rushed toward the bathing chamber as Cyr wrote his mother that Angela indeed adored her new dress. She is beginning to learn to read and write and therefore could not thank her herself.

Additionally, Cyr enclosed his memory of Angela's delighted expression.

 _Her in her nightgown is for my eyes only._ Cyr thought firmly.

Cyr opened their breakfast of warm bread, eggs and bacon on plates. A Fire weave to preserve it and a note from Lady Marissya had him furrow his brow. Angela wore her new dress, deciding to leave her navy one behind. She blushed at Cyr's smile and appraising look.

 _Definitely thanking mela._ He decided momentarily distracted from the note. _Although, she is missing something._

The rose gold-and-champagne dress clung to Angela's figure in the most flattering way. It had a modest neckline and loose, sheer champagne sleeves and an enticing chemise beneath.

"You look lovely _ajiana_." He said sincerely, pleasing Angela who sat beside him. She looked at the note in his hand expectantly.

"Lady Marissya informs us that…Lord Tajik is coming to see the Feyreisen and the Feyreisa this morning." He said carefully as Angela continued buttering her toast without pausing.

"Oh?" Angela asked. "Does that mean we're expected?" She bit into her biscuit.

" _Aiyah_ ," Cyr answered, deciding to follow her example. "and he is very anxious to meet you."

Angela's eyes narrowed as her tairen hissed.

 _I don't like it either,_ Angela assured. _but while I may have been forsaken…I won't look like an ungrateful peasant girl for all Cyr and Lady Marissya have done for us._ Her tairen subsided. _They'll at least find a well-mannered one._

"Very well." Angela said.

Cyr wisely did not press the issue.

Angela straightened the bed as Cyr put everything else away.

Steadying her nerves, Angela was about to open the door when Cyr caught her hand.

Surprised, Angela turned to Cyr who promptly kissed her.

Pulling from her, he smirked.

"What happens between a _shei'tan_ and a _shei'tani_ is our shameless business." Cyr told her with glowing eyes.

Angela nodded. Her fingers resting at her lips. Cyr held his hand to her in Fey fashion. He opened the door with Angela slightly behind him, scanning for danger.

 _Time to meet Tajik._ Angela thought nervously.

* * *

Marissya scowled as she continued her search in the Hall of Scrolls. She was ill at ease trying to find anything on Angela's anti- _sel'dor_ capability in the archives.

 _Not once_ , she thought chagrined. _Has there been any indication in our nation's history of a successful sel'dor breach without using Azrahn._

Shaking her head, she practically jumped as the clock struck 10 a.m.

« _Shei'tani?_ » Dax asked concerned.

« _Las_.» She replied, returning the books with a Feyan command to the flame-haired 'librarian.'

« _I must visit Angela_ _―_ _._ »

« _She and Cyr arrived just now after receiving your note._ » He supplied. Dax was surprised at how polite the young woman greeted him for the first time after scaring her and he quickly apologized. Something he hoped Marissya would finally forgive _him_ for.

Marissya made her way to the private receiving room specifically chosen for Angela's first meeting with her biological father.

 _Please don't scare her Tajik_. She prayed

* * *

Rain and Ellysetta informed Tajik of Angela's background up to that point.

The Fey ran the gamut of absolutely furious, despairing, anxious and fearing Angela's rejection. His niece wove several golden _she'dahlin_ healing strands to settle him while Rain readied his Water weaves.

« _Just in case he tries to burn my palace down._ » He wryly told Ellysetta and Bel.

The silent warrior shared a look with his friend.

The royal couple asked Bel to attend in case they needed help controlling Tajik.

The door opened and everyone froze before relaxing at Marissya's diplomatic presence as her _shei'tan_ shook his head at some questioned she asked.

Before everyone relaxed there was a sure knock at the door.

Bel answered it.

"Good morning, _kem'falla,_ Cyr." He politely greeted as the young matepair entered.

"Goodness," Angela said glancing around the stately room before her eyes regarded the tall redheaded Fey Lord. "it's not every day a girl is with such esteemed company."

After breaking the ice and exchanging pleasantries everyone backed enough away as Tajik searched her face.

"Y―you look just like _kem'Lissie._ " Tajik offered.

Cyr winced as Angela regarded Tajik coolly. "Thank you…sir." She said politely, making Tajik frowned.

"I would like to ask you something." Angela said after a beat.

Tajik nodded once. Light blue eyes full of trepidation.

"Were you ever married to…Felicity?" She demanded softly as the room tensed.

 _Teska gods say aiyah!_ Cyr fervently prayed.

Tajik blinked in surprise.

"We were about to be engaged when you were born." He answered truthfully.

Angela's entire being stilled. She arched a brow at him.

"Felicity and I were going to perform an _e'tanista_." Tajik rushed, unsure what he said was so wrong.

"So no church then." Angela stated flatly.

Tajik looked taken aback. " _Nei_ _―_ we did not need any special ceremony."

Marissya and Cyr face-palmed.

 _Oh gods._ The room collectively thought.

"Well," Angela said with barely controlled fury through clenched teeth. " _that_ explains everything."

Turning from him she curtseyed low to everyone present as Cyr quickly followed suit as Angela walked away stiffly.

Behind her back, Cyr threw Tajik an apologetic look.

 _This is starting out to be a jaffing krekk of a morning._ Cyr thought dryly.

* * *

Angela blinked back tears. Her heart beat too fast in her throat as her fists clenched so hard she knew she drew blood from her palms.

She had not been paying attention when Cyr led her to the receiving room. Angela cursed herself. She realized she had grown accustomed to Cyr leading and too complacent since living at the palace.

She scowled. She is lost. Every grand hallway look the same in its architectural design and coloring.

Cyr carefully approached on Angela's right side.

"Where would you like to go, _shei'tani_?" He calmly asked.

Angela swallowed thickly.

She did not do scenes. Yet, she knew she was about to have one.

« _Our room first?_ » She Spirited, her voice shaking.

Cyr held out his hand in the Celierian fashion. Angela silently linked her fingers in his as he led her away from the stately palace walls toward their sanctuary.

As soon as she heard the door shut, Angela began cursing in her thick, Norban dialect which Cyr barely understood.

She paced like a caged tairen.

Before she knew it she was angrily crying and hitting their four-poster bedpost.

 _I shouldn't even sound like I do._ She thought willfully. _I should sound like a highborn lady. But I'm just a whore's daughter from a rakish father. No home. No title. No legacy. No family. Nothing and no one!_

Cyr immediately wrapped his arms around her waist, and forcefully pulled her backward doing his best not to harm her.

" _Nei! Parei! Setah!_ " The young Fey exclaimed. He could feel his own Rage igniting at his _shei'tani's_ wayward emotions.

Angela sobbed.

"Don't you see?" She demanded wretchedly. Her hair in her face, sobbing. "Everything is true! Everything Vandar and the Norbans said was _true_!"

Cyr took a deep, steadying breath to anchor himself.

He knew he needed to be _very_ patient with her.

He turned her around and made her look at him. She was ashamed at her outburst; but her hurt and outrage remained undisputed.

" _Kem'Angela,"_ Cyr began sincerely. "We've discussed that Norban thinking is unnecessary and nothing Vandar Michaelson said is true."

Angela hiccupped and tried to pull away. Her emotions bubbled again. She looked down as Cyr took her hand.

It was badly bruised and she started as she realized she tore the sleeve's fabric.

"I'm sorry!" She apologized upset. "If you have needle and thread I'll fix it―I swear!"

Cyr's eyes slowly widened in horror.

" _Las ajiana_ ," He said slowly, unnerved by the real mounting fear he sensed and saw through their bond.

"I know I haven't sewn in…a while," Angela babbled, becoming hysterical. "But I swear it was an accident and I'll never do it again, honest." She proclaimed, trembling. "I know how to take care of nice things, really."

Cyr's jaw dropped.

"I've no doubt you do, _shei'tani._ " Cyr said, making a point to move slowly and keep his voice steady. He carefully pulled her away from the bed. He was positioning himself more to Angela's right where she could see him and making sure she is not boxed in.

Angela's _sel'dor_ -and-platinum tears fell in earnest hardening down her cheeks in earnest.

Cyr wanted to punch his potential bond-father.

" _Las ajiana,"_ The Fey repeated. " _teska."_ He entreated. "You're breaking my heart. Everything is fixable." He quickly used Earth to fix her sleeves and to mend her hands with a light Spirit weave thrown into the mix.

Gently, Cyr began to kiss her tears from her face.

" _Kem'Angela_ ," he said hearing the tenderness in his voice for the first time.

Her tairen reached for his soul.

« _He hurt us_.» She growled. « _He left us. Ruined. No protection. Mother-kin betrayed us. I want Challenge!_ »

But Cyr knew something more than that.

She is trapped.

 _Maybe she's been trapped her entire life_. He thought sadly.

"You're right," Cyr acknowledged, caressing her wild hair and looking her in the eye. "but that isn't all of it, _kem'Angela ajiana_?"

Angela gulped, unable to break his firm, but gentle grip.

 _Does he want to marry me? Even after all that?_ She wondered but did not dare ask. _I am just...here_. She felt more vulnerable than before.

"No," she admitted in a small voice.

"Everything is happening so fast all over again…I can't go home because I never really had a home and _you_ heard him." Angela yelped.

" _Aiyah,"_ Cyr said calmly. "I hear _you_." Gently, Cyr took Angela to their bed and guided her to lie down. His front to her back. He used Spirit to convey his steady heartbeat, settling Angela.

For a long time, they remained silent as Cyr stroked her belly, arms, and nuzzled her cheek.

Angela hated herself.

 _Stupid, weak, angry, sad little whore's daughter._ She thought, keeping her eyes closed.

"What are you thinking, _kem'Angela?_ " Cyr asked quietly, not liking her negative emotions.

"You wouldn't like it." She muttered.

Cyr turned her over to face him.

"I will say it as often as you need to hear it, Angela." He said solemnly. "I _like_ Angela. All of your experiences shaped you, _aiyah_ , but they do _not_ define you."

Angela sniffed.

« _Ver reisa ku chae. Kem surah, shei'tani._ »

Angela took a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around him.

"What should I do?" She whispered.

The young Fey thought for a moment.

"I think you should hear Lord Tajik out since I think he truly didn't know you existed." Cyr remarked as Angela stiffened.

"Alright," Angela agreed with ill grace. "But I don't want the Feyreisa―or the Feyreisen there."

Cyr frowned as he nodded above her head.

"Are you nervous?" He asked curiously.

"I'm jealous." Angela blurted.

Cyr pulled back to look at her angry, piercing grey eyes expectantly.

Angela sighed. "She's close to Lord Tajik―couldn't you see that warmth?" Looking away from him, she continued. "It makes me sound horrid and I'll admit to it."

 _But her magic hurts, too. And she's favored by the gods. She has truly everything, and more…even Cyr's loyalty._

Angela's tairen howled.

Cyr chose not to press although he knew there was more to it than that.

 _I'll ask Lady Marissya._ He decided.

* * *

Marissya leaned on Dax as she explained to the room.

"I received a letter and a request from Cyr's parents for a marriage contract before Angela's 25th birthday."

They had spent a quarter bell reigning Tajik's shock, hurt and temper in.

"She grew up Norban," Marissya contested hotly at Tajik, ignoring her hovering _shei'tan_. "You can't expect her to understand _all_ Feyan ways when she was made to believe horrible things regarding marriage, mates and hypocrisy. She's _lucky_ to be alive, Tajik!"

Tajik swore. His red-hot temper igniting.

There was a knock on the door surprising everyone.

Bel opened the door seeing a grimly determined Angela and a calm Cyr.

"Would it be possible for Angela to speak to Lord Tajik alone?" Cyr asked formally as Angela's jaw tightened.

"Of course," Rain decreed quickly.

Ellysetta opened her mouth to object and Angela turned steely grey eyes on her.

"With respect, My Lady Feyreisa." Angela said softly.

Blushing and hurt by Angela's formality, Ellysetta quickly followed suit behind Rain. Cyr waited until everyone exited and caught the door before it closed. He bowed low to Tajik before closing it behind him.

Marissya gave Cyr a curious, wary look.

He quickly wove privacy.

"I have an idea what's going to happen," he admitted. "it took a long time for her to settle down."

Dax sighed and nodded. "She's still handling this…well?" He asked between them.

"That's not all of it, is it Cyr?" Marissya asked warily.

" _Nei,_ " Cyr said, pinching his nose bridge.

"She is…jealous of the Feyreisa." He said finally. It was his duty as a Fey warrior to admit knowledge on any perceived threat to the Feyreisa despite his misgivings for his _shei'tani's_ sake.

Marissya closed her eyes. " _Aiyah,"_ she agreed. "I sensed it as soon as Tajik remained nearest to Ellysetta."

Dax muttered a swear word and for once, Marissya did not gainsay him.

* * *

"Ellysetta," Rain said chastised.

"What?" Ellysetta asked affronted.

Even Bel looked both sad and disappointed.

"You best remain at Rain's side and away from Tajik in the near future, _kem'falla_." Bel explained. "Lest she feel in competition for her _gepa's_ affection."

* * *

Angela forced herself to take a seat and the tall Fey did as well.

"Why did you abandon…Felicity and I?" She asked quietly.

Tajik's jaw tightened, and he stared at her with brighter blue eyes.

"I didn't, _ajiana_." He said painfully. Angela swallowed and tried not to fall for it. _But he seems in earnest._

« _Shei'tani?_ » Cyr asked. « _Do you have need of me?_ »

« _No, not yet._ » She answered, feeling a little relieved that Cyr had her back in this endeavor. She rubbed her temples, catching Tajik's attention.

"Both of you were captured by the Mages." Tajik rushed, his anguish to real to enact.

Angela frowned at him as Tajik sighed and quickly shaped the room into his memory

 _A younger, carefree Felicity with a round belly giggled as she prepared the meal for herself and Tajik._

" _You want a little girl? Are you sure, my love?"_

" _Of course!" Tajik proclaimed as he pointedly led Felicity away to sit and she good-naturedly rolled her eyes._

" _Why?" Felicity asked curiously, stroking her belly._

" _Because little girls are so rare, Lissie." He explained as he prepared their dinner._

" _Well, I hope she has you hair and magic." She remarked, fighting a smile at her besotted mate._

 _He laughed. "I hope she is as beautiful as you and not so quick to anger."_

 _Felicity really laughed this time. "Are you sure about the name, Taj?"_

" _Aiyah," he said turning to her. "Angela Felicity vol Sibboreh." He smiled wondrously. "She will be our Angela-ajiana with her mela's happiness and her gepa's pride. She is our hope. Our sweet angelic Light Maiden from the gods."_

 _Finishing the meal the Fey knelt to Felicity's belly._

" _I can't wait to meet you kem'nessa." He crooned. "Kev vo san, ajiana."_

 _Felicity's hand went to her mouth, as tears glistened in her eyes. Tajik kissed her and said sweet nothings to her before Felicity said she needed a walk._

 _Distracted by his Fey messenger he sent two Fey warriors to accompany them. He had a duty to perform and trusted his men to keep her safe._

 _The Fey warriors were killed with sel'dor blades and his e'tani-to-be and child gone without a trace._

Angela gaped at the image. Her tears blurring her vision. She felt Tajik's love, remorse, Rage and fear as if it were her own.

 _He did want me after all._ She thought humbly.

" _Beylah vo_." Angela whispered. Her anger dissipating, and her shoulders sagged.

" _Teska,_ " Tajik said. "tell me the truth of how you escaped? How you grew up? How you were treated?" Tears streaming down his face. "And if I'm too late all over again."

Angela rose from her chair and Tajik stiffened.

She could not harm this proud, fiery warrior with her negative feelings. She had unwittingly hurt him enough.

Slowly Angela reached for Tajik who stood. She carefully hugged him.

Shocked, Tajik gently wrapped his arms about his long-lost daughter.

"We have much to learn about one another… _gepa_." She whispered. "You cannot call me your daughter since we must protect the Feyreisa and I've already been held captive."

Tajik's brows rose to his hairline before making a sharp vee.

"What?!" He sputtered. Fire ignited in reaction to his unsettled emotions and causing Angela to scream alongside her new father.

The door burst open and Cyr in his fearsome _shei'tanista_ Rage saw Angela's body bow unnaturally.

Bel, Dax and Rain immediately placed protective weaves around the _fellanas_ and barricaded Cyr from going to his mate.

"You've no right!" Cyr roared.

Bel nodded to Rain who quickly used all Elemental and Spirit magic to separate Angela and Tajik.

The Fire Master was unconscious as Angela whimpered.

Her new dress burned away and her back showcased deep, twin scars where tairen wings once sprouted.

Her hair was no long dark red. Now it was burnished copper. Her features distinctly Feyan and she is almost identical as the feminine equivalent of her father.

Cyr concentrated his formidable strength ignoring Fey voices as he stared at Angela's exposed beauty.

 _No one sees her that way except me!_

Rain quickly repaired Angela's dress with a strong Earth weave before carefully approaching her with Water weaves. Her loveliness captured in her fiery pearlescent soul soothed him automatically.

« _Ajiana?_ » He asked gently. He sensed Angela's tairen move.

« _What is your name, kitling?_ » Rain questioned, amazed.

« _Varenia_.» She answered in her sweet voice. « _Please don't hurt us. We didn't mean anything by it, honest._ »

Rain's heart clenched. « _Nei Varenia._ » He assured. « _We will not hurt you, kitling._ »

Angela shuddered and opened swirling, banded platinum eyes.

Before Rain could say anything a fierce Air weave flung him away and Angela soon found herself in her _shei'tan's_ arms.

"Cyr, no." She said in raw whisper. Reaching for him, feeling sore and bruised.

Cyr bared his teeth at everyone. His magic swirling about himself and his _shei'tani_ offensively.

Bel swore and positioned himself near his Feyreisen and Feyreisa.

Marissya and Ellysetta quickly wove peace.

"Stay away from us." Cyr hissed. His Rage sparking white in his eyes and several Fey warriors encircled the royal couple and Marissya.

Angela's head pounded. "The Feyreisen was only trying to help. Tajik didn't lose control of the Fire―that was all me, honest." She pleaded in her raw whisper. She wanted that to be out in the open lest the Fey get the wrong idea about her _shei'tan_. She repeated her supplications in Spirit for good measure.

"What do you mean, Angela?" Dax asked warily.

"My…magic is Fire." Angela admitted, closing her swirling eyes in shame. "When Lord Tajik helped me I―I," she took a shallow, tense breath. "lost control and he burned the _sel'dor_ from my lungs." She finished.

Rain straightened.

" _Las,"_ He commanded. "Angela speaks the truth. See to Tajik…Cyr take Angela."

Cyr's stony expression was chiseled, even for Fey.

The Air Master is granted a wide berth as he walked briskly to their suite. The Fey used all protections he knew around the perimeter.

Shaking with Rage, he took Angela to the bathing chamber.

This time Cyr did not heat the water. He used a mild Earth weave and removed Angela's dress.

She would have blushed if her body could spare the blood rush. She did not dare speak nor comfort him. His emotions ran the gamut of possession because other males had seen her naked and vulnerable.

Silently, Cyr stepped into the water with Angela and submerged them both. His weapons and armor had removed itself from his body with a simple Air weave along with an Air mask about their heads to breathe.

Personally, he found himself remaining clothed for the better since he did not want to do anything he regretted. He sensed her fear and it was enough to cool any potential passion.

* * *

And there you have it, folks! Tajik is Angela's father. More to come of course :-). Reviews welcome!


	13. Ch XIII: Alone

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Tairen Soul Series_ by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own Angela and any OC, non-canon, and fictional magic.

A/N: I'm back! Thank you so much for my reviews. It's really inspiring to receive them. Please keep it up!

* * *

 **Ch. XII** : Alone

Very gently the Fey Warrior supported Angela's back and spun strategically placed Air weaves to float them in the middle of the deepest part of the bathing pool. Angela watched Cyr's magic unfold and smiled reflexively.

Respectfully, Cyr spun Air weaves around Angela's torso to both cool her and blur her lovely figure from his gaze, knowing how uncomfortable she is.

The young woman's expression could only be described as relieved and her soul reached Cyr's.

Her tairen purred for the first time in her soul, feeling mostly _sel'dor_ free, even if she remained trapped.

The young Frey watched Angela for a moment longer before slowly allowing them to arise from the depths.

He noted old, small scars around her body at specific points.

All are defensive wounds.

 _Now is not the time, vel Lesk._ He thought sternly. _Bide your time today._

The young Fey is no fool.

His _shei'tani_ reached her limits and he would move cautiously for his self-protective, skittish doe.

 _There can be only one impetuous person in a relationship._ He thought shrewdly. _I must prove myself by showing her patience this time._ Cyr did not fancy another botched temperamental moment that unsettled his _shei'tani_ in a previously frazzled state.

Doubtlessly, the Fey realized they would have a few unsettling scenes in the near future.

 _She needs her shei'tan_. Marissya's early chastisement echoed in his mind. _Go gently…she is like a skittish doe._ His _mela's_ voice soon followed in his recollection.

Angela remained still and silent despite actually enjoying the cool water on her burned body. The relief she found with Cyr's capable Air Mastery coupled with the bath's fragrant cleansing water relaxed her.

After some time, Cyr Air-lifted them and he led her to the fireplace, careful to keep his eyes averted.

His action caused mixed feelings from the young woman. He carefully dried her and slipped her rose nightgown over her face and brought it down her body, making her flush with embarrassment.

Cyr kissed her cheek.

"I will not allow you to be uncomfortable, _ajiana_." He said softly, his amber eyes sincere. The last thing he wanted is Angela to be frightened of him or believe he will take advantage of her.

She leaned her cheek to his visage, and nodded. Her blush remaining bright and stubbornly refused her peace.

"Are you…warm or cool enough?" Cyr asked after a beat.

Still not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

Cyr leaned down and lifted his _shei'tani_ and deposited her on their bed.

He gathered his nightclothes and retreated behind the silk screen to change as Angela gathered her thoughts.

When he emerged, Angela regarded his for a long moment before gesturing him to sit down.

Once he did, Angela crawled over to him and sat very close to him. She clutched his arm and buried her face into his shoulder, worrying him.

Her emotions bombarded Cyr. Helplessness, embarrassment, defeat and shyness.

"Angela?" He asked quietly.

"I…just don't know what to think, Cyr." She finally said. "I have this power that makes no sense to me…and today…really wasn't a good day for either of us." She hunched into her shoulders. "I guess I got really, really good at hiding and that's what I'd like to do now…even if we're not supposed to."

Cyr did not like the sound of that.

"Angela," he began. "none of this was your fault." He told her frustrated.

She took a deep breath and then made herself look him in the eye. She offered him a shy smile. Some of her negative emotions abated at seeing his face.

It softened his features and he held her close with one arm.

"There's _kem'Angela._ " He murmured, relaxing a bit.

Blushing, Angela leaned her head against his shoulder.

After several chimes, Angela turned and softly kissed his shoulder making him smile.

"I'm sorry for acting badly," she said in a low voice. "I honestly don't know what came over me…one chime, I was listening to…Tajik's explanation. The next, I burned so badly I could only react…I'm very thankful I didn't burn you or anyone else."

Cyr looked down at her. "What did Tajik say?"

"He showed me what happened…Mama had been kidnapped and I was due in three weeks…he's the one who named me."

"You didn't burn me, Angela." Cyr answered, turning her to face him. She held her breath at his chiseled expression.

"You frightened me."

She blinked. "That's impossible." She automatically denied and instantly regretted it.

He raised a perfectly arched brow.

"Is that what you really believe?" He asked, his voice unnaturally calm.

She pulled back enough to look at him. "Well, yes." She answered nervously. "You're always so cool, calm and collected and you're so…capable."

On the one hand, Cyr's pride took an immediate northern spike.

 _She's missing the point._ He thought exasperatedly.

" _Nei,"_ he corrected. "I attacked the Feyreisen and I don't take kindly to _any_ threat to you." He looked her meaningfully. "We've established this Angela."

Angela sighed. "Everything's changed again." She complained. "I'm a raging volcano equipped with a tairen― _and_ my hair's changed."

That surprised a laugh from him while Angela tried to remain annoyed and could not.

"True, _kem'Angela._ " He managed to say, chuckling. "You hair _always_ changes." Speaking of said curls, Cyr wrapped his finger around the coppery strands and smiled wistfully.

"You have such beautiful red curls, _ajiana_." The young Fey remarked, before turning to his pleased _shei'tani._ She leaned into his touch.

"But?" She queried, feeling like a glutton for pain.

"You matter to me," Cyr finally said after choosing his words very carefully. "I recall several occasions where I promised ou safety and yet you're always hurt."

"No!" Angela vehemently denied. "That's not true." She continued with a huff. "Without you…I'd be worse off." Angela gripped shirt, making a point.

Deciding it was too late for yet another argument. He switched topics. "I have plans for us tomorrow, so let's go to bed, _teska?"_

Effectively sidetracked, the young woman gave him one final look before ceding the point.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" She asked curiously.

Cyr smiled before pulling her to bed.

"Well, if I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" He grinned at her upturned look before depositing a kiss on her brow.

For once, Angela did not gainsay him and she promptly fell asleep.

The Fey warrior remained awake. He knew things are not OK between them. However, he had to focus on tomorrow.

 _What to do about the near-assassination attempt on the Feyreisen?_

* * *

Meanwhile, a darker presence made itself known deep in the bowels of Boura Fell.

The demons sensed Angela's budding powers and hungered for her body and soul. They remembered why she is so familiar.

Her mother sliced her wings into bits using them to save herself…until and unlikely guide traded one Fey girl for another.

Who would care a nobody's whore's child for a revered Feyan matepair's destined to rule?

The Tairen Soul by rights should have been Angela and not Ellysetta.

The demons chuckled.

Great power would be her undoing.

"Cyr is not going to be punished." Ellysetta declared to her _shei'tan_ and First Blade.

They Fey exchanged loaded looks.

"While we agree, _kem'falla._ " Bel began. "his pride will have him here demanding to be…."

"Although, what to do about Angela?" Rain interrupted.

"You'll do nothing," Marissya said staunchly.

"Marissya," Rain began.

"I'm serious." The _shei'dahlin_ continued heatedly. "That young woman is surprisingly well-adjusted despite her horrid abandonment, abuse and magical backlash."

" _Aiyah,"_ Bel agreed soberly. "but we no longer have the luxury of time for her to convalesce."

Ellysetta remained thoughtful.

After some explanation and consideration concerning her new cousin, they Feyreisa went to the Hall of Scroll to learn all she could about Norban. The customs in particular before making her way―with an armed quintet and Rain―to visit Ivan Dew.

He absolutely disgusted her. If it were within her power she would have unleashed Azreisa with him as her prey.

 _She is amazingly strong…she didn't have love and she's still a good person to everyone._ Ellysetta thought somberly.

" _Shei'tani?"_ Rain asked, concerned.

"Hm?" Ellysetta asked, realizing everyone looked at her.

"What do you think we should do?" Rain asked quietly.

"I think we need to let her excel in something." Ellysetta answered.

"Excel?" Bel asked, confused.

"Like sewing? Or becoming literate? Or blacksmithing?" Marissya perked up, with a faintly appeased look.

" _Aiyah…_ and I'd like Venarra to check on her health since I know you'll be leaving soon, Marissya, and she doesn't trust me." Ellysetta tried to hide her hurt.

Everyone nodded. Tomorrow, many things would change for Angela Felicity vol Sibboreh.

"What about Tajik?" Dax asked.

"Still healing," Marissya grimaced. "I don't want to be the one to talk to him." She gave Dax a pointed look, and he held up his hands in surrender.

"It's a shame we can't give them time to get to know one another," Dax remarked grimly.

Rain rubbed his temples. "It can't be helped…we're still at war and he needs to train the troops with the weapons Angela's made―if we can duplicate her results?" he asked Bel.

The somber Fey shook his head.

* * *

Tajik's sour mood perpetuated long after his talk with Dax. He knew his orders and the gravity and reality of impending war. He would have to leave his _nessa_.

 _Again._ He thought bitterly.

Of course, he demanded to see her and could not fault Cyr one iota for instilling a virtual lockdown.

He wrote with tears in his eyes a letter, since he knew had to leave in a few bells.

 _Just in case,_ he thought grimly. _I never see her again._

* * *

Angela awoke cold.

It was late afternoon. She knew Cyr was off doing something for the Feyreisen after getting a knock at the door from a messenger this morning.

Still sore, Angela slowly rose feeling her bones pop into place.

Gulping slightly, she slowly dressed in her saffron-and-crimson dress and ignored her appearance in the mirror.

The young woman knew she changed―but that new face is beyond her comprehension.

She wore her hair loose and grabbed a slice of bread before turning the lock on her door.

Cyr could keep someone out but not if they were already in.

She did not see anyone along the corridor and for that she thanked the gods.

Frankly, Angela did not want to see her _shei'tan_ at the moment.

She had very mixed feelings regarding last night.

No, the only person she wanted to see is her father.

It surprised her how ready she is to call him that.

 _But…it's gepa not Papa._ She thought determinedly.

So focused was she on concentrating on her shaky legs and weight she did not see the _fellana_ before her.

"Oh!" they exclaimed.

"I beg your pardon, my lady," Angela squeaked, dropping a clumsy curtsey.

"Oh it's not trouble, Angela, is it?" Jirene v'En_, _shei'tani_ to the Water Master of the Massan*, said kindly. She eyed the young woman with a Healer's eye.

Angela squirmed. "Yes ma'am." She answered unsteadily.

"What are you doing out of bed, _ajiana_?" She asked, seeing Angela intuitively relax . "I know Marissya wanted to say goodbye to you same with Tajik."

The young woman gaped at her. "What do you mean?" She demanded. Realizing how forward she was. "Please? Could you tell me, my lady?" She added, blushing.

"Oh, I thought you knew, _ajiana_." Jirene said, not taking offense as she sensed Angela's emotions. "Lord Tajik wanted to say goodbye and slipped a letter under your door."

Angela stared at her. "Which way?" she asked, feeling upset.

Jirene took a step closer to her. "He just left about five chimes ago, they're headed toward the Garreval." She answered immediately. She wove soft golden _shei'dahlin_ weaves about Angela.

" _Beylah vo, kem'falla."_ Angela tried in Feyan, reaching for her hand sincerely. "I pray the gods grant you what you most desire. I can't lose him, too." Angela missed the platinum glow around her fingertips and dashed away, leaving a bloody left footprint in her wake.

Jirene's jaw dropped, startled by the platinum magic.

« _Shei'tani?_ »Elmor asked, concerned. « _Are you alright?_

« _Aiyah, shei'tan._ »Jirene answered, her eyes brimming with tears. « _That poor child, I can see why Marissya is so taken by her._ »

Angelaran toward the front doors and caught sight of bright red hair 50 yards ahead. She knew she could not run anymore. _What is wrong with my leg?_ She thought unnerved. The young woman swooped down and grabbed a pebble.

"Don't you _dare_ leave _me_ without saying goodbye!" Angela shrilled, actually throwing the pebble with deadly speed and accuracy at Tajik's head.

Tajik whirled around. His blue eyes flashing temper and bitterness until he saw her. Angela's ire faltered, suddenly regretting her snap decision. The Feyan brigade started and laughed.

" _Kem'nessa,"_ he announced, relieved. Seeing her eyes widen in censure he shook his head at her expression. The Fire Master jogged to her.

"Tairen's out of the bag." He grinned, a mixture of pride and remorse, as pulled her into an embrace. "You look just like me."

Angela's breath labored, as she limped enough to worry Tajik. He quickly carried Angela to a bench, noticing her bloody foot.

"And for the record, _kem'nessa_." Tajik continued paternalistically. "I _did_ leave you a letter since I was told you were still healing. I had to leave because the ages are gathering forces and I'm _commanded_ ," he stressed the word quietly. "to finish training."

Angela frowned at him. "I can't read it… _gepa._ "

His eye brightened at her attempt but then he frowned sharply. " _Ajiana_ , I wrote it in Celierian." Angela shook her head before he finished.

"Don't matter," she said shrugging. "Cain't read or write…didja draw pictures?" Her accent thickening as she tried to breathe.

Tajik nearly gave himself whiplash. "What?" he demanded sharply.

Angela sighed and clenched her teeth as she glared at her bloody foot. "None of us knew how to. It's actually what saved us from the Mages early on…if you're smart then you're killed off and/or sold." She answered flippantly.

"What?" Tajik repeated, gobsmacked. "Felicity knew how to."

Angela's eyes welled with angry, platinum tears, surprising Tajik. _She lied again._ Angela thought infuriated. However, Angela had enough presence of mind to remain silent.

"I should probably let you go," Angela murmured spying Cyr's stoic expression with Rain in tow.

Tajik's eyes narrowed at his king and potential bond- _nos_.

Angela took a deep breath.

 _I don't do scenes._ She thought firmly as she plastered on a smile for her _shei'tan._

"Was just sayin' goodbye." Angela said garnering everyone's attention. Cyr dutifully came to Angela's side. The reserved Fey remained silent.

Rain sighed. "I _am_ sorry, Angela." He said tiredly.

The young woman was acutely aware of several Feyan curious eyes. Her _gepa's_ simmering temper and her personal conversation with Cyr.

"I understand, My Lord Feyreisen." Angela said formally. "The Fey need every available blade. I regret I was disoriented and made a spectacle of myself when I should have been resting." Angela slowly stood and leaned on Cyr before turning to Tajik.

"Be safe and may your blades aim true." Angela said sincerely before turning to her _shei'tan_. She did not dare reach out and touch him.

He bowed to his king and potential bond- _gepa_ , and held out his hand Fey fashion to her.

Taking it, Angela walked carefully before Cyr promptly carried her and used Earth to wrap around her foot. He led them to their room.

Depositing her on their bed. Cyr looked at her steadily.

"I'd rather not leave in anger, Angela." Cyr said quietly. "but I, too, have my summons to carry out a mission that the Feyreisen has set out for me."

Angela stilled.

"When are you leaving and coming back?" She asked.

"Immediately and in three days." He answered, kneeling to her foot and removing her bloody shoe.

"Lady Marissya must also leave," he said in a low voice. "she must assist the Feyreisa."

 _So I'm alone then._

He looked up. "Ravel, Sian and Torel will remain here if you wish it―I'm running into them as well."

Angela shook her head. "Y'all need each other…I'll only stand in the way."

Cyr used more Earth and Spirit weaves.

"While I'm away….I have been told the _shei'tanista_ bond is excruciating when the matepair is separated…and I'd rather leave Ravel behind to watch over you."

Angela gaped at him, making Cyr feel guilty. _What does excruciating mean?_

He sighed. "I…cannot help you with Fire, and I want someone experienced to guide you."

Angela's shoulders sagged. _He's always so responsible._ She thought, feeling like a mean pacheeta.

"OK," she agreed hesitantly. Angela placed her hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her.

"Return…and we'll address everything since there's no time."

Grateful, Cyr turned and kissed her hand before lightly rising and she lowered hers.

He picked up his rucksack and Angela's eyes widened as his jet black leathers shone.

Gone is _her_ Cyr.

He puled something from it and handed it to her.

It is a floral headband made to match her new dress Cyriane made. Cyr had repaired it that morning and laid on his side of the bed for Angela to see.

She swallowed, accepting it and blinking back tears.

Cyr nodded more to himself, before kneeling again and giving her a gossamer brush of his lips before standing.

 _If I linger…I'll never leave._ He thought without a backwards glance he closed the door with an audible click.

* * *

Cyr made the necessary arrangements with Angela's _lu'tans_.

Ravel bowed to Cyr who acknowledged him.

Cyr took off running with Sian and Torel giving him a slight distance.

 _Perhaps this is for the best._

Cyr shook his head as soon as he set foot from their door.

 _I have to find a way to remove her from the palace…I can teach her to read at our library._ He felt guilty.

The Hall of Scrolls is world-renowned and if someone is allowed in The Fading Lands then they ought to see it once in their lifetime.

The simple truth is Cyr is losing faith in the Crown of Office. He knew it was taking place because of Angela.

Being in her cousin's service added to the melodrama.

 _How can I serve two mistresses?_ He wondered. The tall Fey made his way to his blade brothers.

They eyed him worriedly.

"It'll only be for three days, Cyr." Torel reminded him quietly.

Cyr looked at them startled.

They are the closest he had to friends.

 _And if I fail?_ The Fey thought. _How would that turn out?_

Every Fey knew the risk failure brought in a _shei'tanista_ courtship.

Soul-lost, bond-madness, honor death.

 _The end of my family and lineage._ Cyr shook his head.

Sian exchanged a telling look with Torel and placed a hand on Cyr's shoulder, surprising him.

"You're a good man, Cyr." He began. " _Teska,_ don't think all is lost…until she actually rejects you."

Cyr stared at him and realized something equally important.

He represented hope to his friends.

 _Because really,_ Cyr thought censurably. _Who'd have thought I'd have a shei'tani?_

" _Beylah vos."_ Cyr said genuinely.

Together, the Fey took off running.

* * *

Angela stayed in her room, twiddling her floral headband.

It occurred to Angela this is the first time she is alone since the wilderness.

The young woman rose and made her way to the comfortable chaise lounge. She stared at the finery surrounding her.

"You're not dreaming," she muttered, closing her eyes. Her tears trekked downward hardening into platinum pearls.

* * *

Marissya is decidedly unhappy.

"No _shei'tan,_ no _gepa_ , no…anyone!" She fumed at Dax.

The Earth Master sighed.

"This might be a good thing, _kem'san._ "

She speared him a dark look, before her shoulders sagged.

They had to leave hastily. Marissya allowed Dax to carry their trunks and followed her entourage as they headed toward the Garreval. They would not be leaving The Fading Lands for some time. Especially not worth the risk for their esteemed _shei'dahlin_.

* * *

Ravel lightly knocked on Angela's door.

Frowning slightly, the young woman set down her headband and limped before letting out a startled cry. She tripped, slamming her hand against the door and preventing her fall.

" _Kem'falla!"_ Ravel exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Angela shuddered, disoriented.

"I―I'm fine…just ouch…one chime." She cursed herself.

 _What is wrong with you?_ She angrily demanded as she gingerly put her foot down and awkwardly leaned against the door.

Slowly, Angela opened the deadbolt and weakly opened it.

Ravel pushed at the door and stared at Angela's mottled face of blush-and-pale from embarrassment and pain.

" _Kem'falla,"_ he repeated. She leaned on his forearm and he swore in Feyan.

Angela's entire left hem bled along the floor resulting in blood loss.

He quickly lifted her as he rushed to the Venarra v'En_'s office.

"What happened?" Venarra demanded of the strange half- _fellana_ , cousin to the Feyreisa.

 _Couldn't be more dissimilar except for the hair._ She thought.

"I honestly don't know…Cyr patched it before he left." Angela answered awkwardly.

"Do you often bleed from your feet?" Venarra asked in her clipped voice.

Angela bit her lip.

"Not in years, no ma'am."

The _shei'dahlin's_ eyes narrowed. She probed the young woman's mind.

Angela cried out as her tairen screamed. Her body burned and blood thudded in her veins as Fire slammed forth from her hands.

« _Shei'tani!_ » Cyr demanded, feeling Rage spur him.

« _She hurt us!_ » Varenia hissed. « _We will make her pay!_ »

Ravel quickly dispelled magic as Venarra's _shei'tan_ sprung forth with shields around her and fury in face. Venarra jumped back, alarmed with her snarling _shei'tan_ withdrawing his blades.

 _«_ _What's going on?_ _»_ Cyr demanded. Torel and Sian immediately grabbed his arms to keep him from running toward his _shei'tani._

" _Setah!"_ Jisera commanded from the doorway. Her office next to Venarra's made her curious seeing Angela in Ravel's arms. She wove healing weaves around the room.

" _Las ajiana,"_ she soothed. Angela tried to move away as the normally genial _fellana_ glowered at Venarra.

 _Such a primitive girl._ Venarra thought unnerved.

"Tell me, what happened?" Jisera continued.

"She mind-knifed me." Angela snapped, banded swirling platinum eyes glowed fiercely at Venarra as Ravel dispelled the Fire gathering at her fingertips.

Jisera glared at Venara. "You'd no right to do that, Venarra." She chastised.

" _Sieks'ta_ ," Venarra said demurely, wisely retreating.

Ravel cleared his throat, noting Angela's anger.

"Angela's Fire magic awoke last night along with her Fey heritage." He said clearly. "Kindly remember she is Friend of the Fey."

 _«_ _Cyr? Teska, I have Angela…Lady Venarra tried to truthspeak Angela.»_ Ravel immediately Spirited, knowing Angela is unable to do so given her anguish.

 _«_ _What the jaffing hells for?»_ Cyr demanded.

 _«I don't know, but I shall inform the Feyreisa_. _»_ Ravel promised.

Satisfied, Cyr disconnected and apologized to Sian and Torel. Together, they ran toward the Garravel.

Venarra and her _shei'tan_ nodded.

Slowly, Angela indicated Ravel to set her feet down. She curtseyed to the remaining Fey and walked out with as much dignity as she could muster.

Her stomach growled and Ravel followed closely.

" _Sieks'ta, kem'falla."_ Ravel began guiltily.

Surprised, Angela's anger instantly cooled.

"For what? You didn't mind-knife me." She said doing her best to ignore curious Fey. She tilted her head in confusion as Ravel guided her the Kitchens where her usual table remained.

Seeing steak, her eyes rounded. Ravel pulled out her chair carefully.

"Why'd she do it?" Angela asked as she carefully took a napkin and waited. Rain shook his head and drank pinnalle.

Angela eyed the blue alcoholic drink curiously, before accepting her customary _faerilas_.

"She is curious about you." Ravel stated diplomatically.

The young woman wrinkled her nose and dug into her steak and vegetables.

"Why none of y'all can simply ask me questions, I'll never know." She muttered. Angela ate two streaks with her swirling eyes abating. Ravel sipped his pinnalle.

"What would you like to do, _kem'falla?_ "

Angela started. "Oh, I'm not sure? And really, Ravel," Angela said sincerely. "If you have anything else you'd rather be doing―don't let me stop you."

The Fire Master regarded her with perceptive violet eyes.

" _Kem'falla,_ " he said softly. "until your first defender, your _shei'tan_ , returns this Fey will guard you"

Angela blushed. "Then, can we go outside? And practice some Fire? I feel ready to attack…and I need to control it so I don't harm anyone." She asked graciously.

"Sensible." Ravel agreed. "I'll take you to a small clearing and guide you with basic Fire weaves."

 _I'll ask her how she does it._ He thought, harkening back to skilled _fey'cha_ magic.

The young woman finished her meal, tidied her area and took her plate to the sink. She looked around her for cleaning materials.

"Allow us, _kem'falla,_ " A Fey servant said, coming to her from the side.

"Oh, but I…" Chastened, Angela handed her plate to them. "Th― _beylah vo._ "

Ravel nodded to the servant and led Angela out to a small clearing surrounded by fireoak trees.

Angela did not like anyone picking up after her or treating her like glass.

Sensing her mood, Ravel showed her a small Fire weave, effectively distracting her to begin lessons.

* * *

Ivan Dew sighed as he remained in prison after witnessing the Fey Queen scrub his mind looking for evidence and such.

 _I'll find a way to remember everything. For Angela is mine._

He smiled cruelly.

* * *

 _References_ : practically all canon.

 _Names_ : I confess I have to reread the last two TSS books. I just vaguely remembered Jirene (unless that was the _umagi_ for Queen Annoura? Regardless, I will correct ASAP). Or Venarra's surname.


End file.
